


Host of Sheets

by whiskeyjuniper



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Gen, General Creepiness, Ghosts, Haunting, Horror, M/M, Multi, Other, gods and eldritch horrors, here for the cult stuff, nocharacterdeaththopromise, other random BF people run in and out, possessed(!) shane, shanesgoingthroughsomethings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-03-30 07:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13946916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyjuniper/pseuds/whiskeyjuniper
Summary: ----->NOW COMPLETE<---- :DSomething forces its way into Shane after a shoot, and Shane's not particularly fond of it. Ryan likes it even less.......“I’d say like… 30 percent of my thoughts are ones I recognize?” Shane said after careful consideration, idly tapping his lower lip. “I still care about you, my job, my parents... but I also seem to be caring about a lot of other things I never used to care about.”“...Like what?” Ryan asked, softly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and by the dead-eyed stare Shane gave him, he figured he was right.....(EDIT: In the Ohio episode Shane gave a pretty good summary- so, my fic, in Shane's own words:"Latch yourself onto my soul, come back to Hollywood with me, and destroy the lives of all my friends and coworkers")So dramatic! Thanks Shane :3





	1. Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo never written a rpf before, was kinda hard to push past that guilt, but I really wanted to write this. Sorry Ryan, sorry Shane. Love ya. If either of you are reading this- it's not really you, just some ghost-hunters that look like you and have your job and names and are alot like you in every other regard.

Ryan muttered to himself as he checked the batteries. “Welcome to this episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved. I’m joined with my partner Shane and tonight we’re exploring the Crestmourn mine in Arizona, reportedly haunted by the ghosts of a group of miners who were murdered by one of their own. Wait. In pursuit of the ghosts of Crestmourn…no, in search of... Fuck. Welcome to….”

Ryan always had to take a moment to warm up to the camera. Shane let him do his thing, making his way carefully around the pools of mud and water that trickled slowly through the pathways of the mine.

Ryan had picked a doozy this time. The mine was wet with silt and mildew, halls twisting and claustrophobic, chains hanging from the ceiling and swaying with the slightest breeze. The entrance was supported by dark metal struts bolted in place, dripping into the mouth of the cave like teeth. It would probably make a good episode, Shane figured. Ryan’d scream when he backed up into one of the chains. There were plenty of noises he could misinterpret- the wind rustling through the rocks, the trickling water, the creaking of the wooden supports. 

But still, Shane was having trouble getting his enthusiasm up. He was tired. Too many dark, dank, dusty places. Too many roadtrips for a crappy paycheck. He was sure Ryan had to be flagging too, by this point. They hadn’t talked about it yet; Shane didn’t want to be the first one to bring it up, make it seem like he was ungrateful. He loved Unsolved, honestly, but he was starting to figure there was only so many times they could spend a sleepless night somewhere awful before it started taking its toll on them.

They had been given permission to sleep here, but neither of them had quite decided if they were willing to. They had both seemed to make a silent agreement to put it off until they explored the mine more thoroughly and hopefully find some of its better qualities. 

As Shane walked, he could head the sound of water getting louder. Real, running water, but Shane couldn’t tell from where. The ground underfoot was still mud and silt. He cocked his head and started to follow the sound, curious. He’d never seen an underground stream before. It was hard to track, bouncing off the rock walls and echoing strangely. The only illumination came from his flashlight, and that wasn’t helping either, stones glistening as the beam passed over them. All he could hear was water and the sound of his own boots squishing through the mud- Ryan’s voice had faded in the distance.

He knew he should go back before he got too deep into the cave and his mic stopped working, and he almost did, turning around, when the beam from his flashlight slid over something that glinted in the dark. It was a narrow side-tunnel they hadn’t noticed in their first quick run-through, nearly obscured by a slab of rock jutting out of the walls. That was where the sound of water was coming from.

It wasn’t even that tight of a squeeze, Shane turning sideways to shimmy into the makeshift hideaway, until it turned into a hallway he could stand in again. For a moment he wasn’t even sure what he was looking at, lifting the flashlight ahead of him to trace it over the marbled walls. It was a small carved room of sorts, sealed with a door made of wooden slats. 

He shoved that open and it gave a groan of protest as he entered the chamber. The rushing water was actually underneath his feet, the floor was so thin Shane could see it, a burbling river under his boots. The water must have been wearing the marble thin over the decades- centuries? The room looked man-made though, so it couldn’t have been that old. Someone had just carved themselves a little square chamber of sorts, chipped and polished smooth.

A stone table laid at the far end.

Shane tested the rock under his foot as he moved further into the room. It was pure, translucent marble, probably fine to hold his weight, but something about the way it almost seemed to glow from the river underneath made him feel strangely uneasy.

A crackle from his radio and he nearly jumped, startled in a way that was unlike him. 

//Shane? Where’d ya go? We’re about ready to start taping.//

Shane paused. He lifted the radio to his mouth,

//Just a minute. Found something I might make you try, later.//

//Aw, goddammit Shane, really?//

The mic cut out before Shane could hear his mutters of complaint trail off, and he laughed aloud at Ryan’s tone before stepping forward to the table. There was a bowl carved in the middle of it, filled with cloudy water. It didn’t have mold growing on the surface, but it still seemed like something Shane didn’t want to stick a finger in. The table was covered with a piece of sheet metal, and scattered with an odd assortment of knick-knacks: coins, dried flowers and twisted pieces of wood and metal.

This. This was definitely going to be the room they stand alone in. Ryan would hate it.

He smiled to himself, just a little, as he traced the objects set atop the table- it was a very small table. If he didn’t know better he’d say it almost looked like an altar. Ryan hadn’t told him the whole story of the mine yet, of course, but an altar was still a weird thing to build in your workspace, no matter what had happened here.

He picked up a small pin, a rusty sort of hatpin, in which a bundle of flowers of a type he didn’t recognize were tied to by a crepey silk ribbon. They were dried, brittle in his hands. All of this was so odd- flowers, coins, some dried brown drops Shane could point out to Ryan later and say was blood, though it was obviously just rust, probably.

He could hear Ryan calling him, getting louder, as he came closer, deeper into the caverns. He was close enough Shane didn’t have to use the walkie, although his voice was muffled by the wooden door.

“Shane, where are you? We need to start recording-”

“Be right there, I--”

He cut off with a yelp as his thumb brushed over something sharp in the bundle of flowers he held. There in the middle of the stems, hidden by the silk ribbon, was a very old razor blade, rusted but obviously still sharp.

Shane watched the blood well from his skin, brows furrowed. It dripped, spattering on the stone.

“--I’m coming.” He finished. He shook his head, as he carefully plucked the razor blade out of the bundle. He slipped the bundle of flowers into the front pocket of his shirt absently, without hardly a thought of why, before leaving the small chamber to take his place by Ryan’s side.

“I cut myself. Look.” He held out his hand for the other boy to examine, and Ryan made a face scrunched between disgust and concern.

“Oh shit, how’d you do that? Guess headquarters wasn’t kidding when they insisted we get tetanus shots for this shoot. All this twisted metal around. You need a band-aid? Med kit’s over with the extra equipment.”

Shane shook his head, “Nah, let’s just get this started, it’s getting late. We decided if we’re spending the night?”

Ryan hesitated. “It’s awfully fucking damp, don’t you think?”

Shane shrugged, “There are dry tunnels.”

“Sounds like you want to.”

“Unless you don’t?”

Ryan laughed, but it was nervous. “You’re putting it on me to say no! It’s not like you really want to, right?”

“I mean….” Shane gestured out, “Would anyone? Look at this place.”

“The episode’s better when we do. But…” Ryan looked around, pausing on a slowly swaying chain to his left. He visibly shuddered. “Let’s just...get this over with, ok?”

He gestured to their cameraman, who flicked on the lights and hit record.

Ryan took his time introducing them, words rolling smoothly now that he was warmed up- he’d done this dozens of times by now, after all. Shane just had to stand around and try not to look awkward, which got a little bit harder with every episode. He looked around the cave instead, giving his obligatory shake of the head at Ryan’s question, “Are ghosts real?”

But really, if ghosts were real, this would be the place. Shane had mentioned that before, in the last mining episode. Human misery made ghosts, supposedly, and this place certainly looked miserable. He could almost imagine the machinery grinding, workers making their way past him in the narrow halls, silt in their lungs and calluses on their fingertips.

He was examining his own smooth-lined fingers when Ryan nudged him. 

“So, what do you think of this place, Shane?”

Shane gave a laugh, brightening up to his on-camera persona. “You picked a...wow. This place.” He turned his personal camera downwards, showing how the mud and silt sucked at his sneakers with each step.

“So, tell me why you think it’s infested with ghosts, instead of just the usual rats and bats and little bugs.”

They went through their little spiel, and Shane half-listened, mostly waiting for the part where the strange stone room would make sense. But it never came. Ryan spoke of a normal copper mine, built in 1886 and in operation until some machinery broke down and started a fire, killing thirteen miners. Shane remembered seeing the blackened ruins, further back. The stories of what started the fire varied. Some accounts said it was sabotage by rival businessman, but Ryan’s favorite theory was suicide by a crazed miner. Either way the mine was never really re-opened, for one reason or another.

Shane looked around the darkness. He tried to feel their presence- thirteen people died here. At least one of them should have become a ghost, by Ryan’s logic. But it felt still, empty, almost calm to him. He sighed.

“So yeah, the history is interesting, but I can promise you we’re not gonna find anything. Really, this is getting kinda old, don’t you think?” 

The corner of Ryan’s mouth pursed for a second, in a way that told Shane he’d hit a sore spot. The last few episodes in this latest season had been a struggle to find something new and interesting for them to explore.

“You don’t know that.” Ryan teased in response, “C’mon, let’s go take a look.”

“Sure, let’s talk to some ghouls,” Shane replied, “Hey ya ghosties- the boys are here! Hey Ryan, there’s a joke here somewhere about that miner, murdering coworkers. ‘Cause, ya know, you’re always threatening me.” He grinned, and Ryan shook his head.

“Dude, don’t even joke about that while we’re here! You’ll make them upset...”

They made their way down through the mining shafts, stepping over old hydraulic hoses and other rusted equipment, talking to the air and trying to get the most interested, creepy shots they could find, until they were finally close enough to the hidden chamber Shane had found.

He tugged on Ryan’s arm to stop him. “Here, I got something for ya.”

Shane showed him to the rickety door, shoving it open with only a little bit of effort, the wood grinding against stone. Ryan peeked his head in and his eyes widened.

 

“The hell is this?”

“Dunno. Thought you might know. Maybe we got some demons here too.”

“Fuck dude, don’t even say that. I didn’t agree to that.” Ryan laughed, before Shane gave him a little nudge between the shoulderblades.

“We’re gonna do the shut in here. You can use your spirit box or whatever.”

“What? No, no, no we don’t even know what this place is-

“Break room, probably. Why not? A place for the miners to chill, drink some beer, watch the game...”

With that, Shane turned to leave, and he knew Ryan would let him, because that was how the show worked.

Shane could vaguely hear Ryan’s wavery rambles to the ghosts, but it was already getting muffled as he turned away. He looked up and down the mine shaft as he waited, making comments to the viewers as he thought them up. Most of it was useless trash, but he trusted Ryan to pick the best ones in edit later. Shane ignored Ryan entirely until he heard his voice pitch up in panic.

“What the fuck- there’s blood in here!”

“Oh yeah, that’s mine.”

“The fuck, why’s your- Shane you’re acting really fuckin’ weird, you sure you don’t want to tape this later? If you’re not feeling well…”

“I’m fine, look, your turn’s up, I’ll do my lock-in now, no problem.”

Shane returned, slipping past Ryan to stand by the stone chamber expectantly. Ryan looked at him for a moment, brows creasing, before he sighed. It took him a moment to struggle with the flimsy door before he got it shut.

Shane was alone. 

He took a moment to listen; the rushing water under his feet, the creaking of chains, and the faint sound of wind whistling through the stone chambers. He would never hear a ghost through all of this clutter. This place was ridiculously over the top.

“Hey, so ghosties, demons, maybe just...try tugging on my shirt a little? Or hey- I stole your flowers. You want them back? Hafta fight me for them.”

He rocked on his heels and thought that over. Why did he steal the flowers? He thought maybe to just piss them off, but there were other things to steal- things that didn’t crumble so easily in his breast pocket.

“Shane?”

Shane straightened. Ryan was talking to him?

“I still have two minutes left,” he scolded. He could hear him fairly clearly, especially considering how muffled Ryan had sounded when it was the other way around. Why it would be one-sided was the curious thing. 

“I know. But what would you do if you heard a voice or something right now?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“But if you did? Like say...something asking if they could borrow your body, or something creepy like that?”

Shane laughed. It echoed strangely, for such a tiny room. “You know the answer to that. I’d like to see them try. If they really can, why not, y’know?” 

The cut on his hand was burning. Ryan was right, he should’ve taken the time to clean it. It was going to get infected. Shane pursed his lips as the timer went off, signaling his lock-in was done. He flicked the light back on.

His cut was dripping blood, too much, wet spatters on the stone floor. He yelped, squeezing his thumb tightly, trying to put pressure on it and make it stop. His head felt heavy. He blinked, once, twice, slowly trying to will the feeling away.

“Ryan?” He called out. He could hear the waver in his own voice. He set his hands down on the table to catch himself, the tin cold against his fingertips. All the trinkets scattered there swam in his vision.

Some flower petals drifted from his pocket, floating down to scatter around his knuckles, spots of pink and lavender. But as he watched, they began to crawl forward, tapping at his fingernails, making their way under them before he could shake them off. He could see them burrowing under his nailbeds. Fire flared up his arms and he stared, caught between fascination and horror.

“Ryan!” 

“You took something, Shane.”

That was also Ryan’s voice, but it didn’t sound right, too sultry, lilting almost- and now that Shane thought about it, much too clear to be hearing through the stone walls.

“You have to give something in return.”

The petals shriveled under his nails, turned black, and started to crawl up his fingers, blackening his skin as they went. 

He danced back, crashing into the door, yelping as the pain doubled, shooting up his forearms.

“Ryan- Fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Are you alright, Shane? What’s wrong?” The door rattled, Ryan right on the other side. Both of them yanked desperately on the warped wood, but it held fast.

“Ryan, Ryan help, I-!”

And then Shane slipped, right through the floor.

He could hear the crackling of the marble, and then wet darkness, all around. His arms felt normal again, blessedly cool. But the water was cold, thick as syrup. He held his breath for as long as he could, looking for the the light of his flashlight left on the ground above to show where the exit was, but everything had the same dim glow. He paused. Look for the bubbles- that’s what he’d heard. Bubbles went up, swim with them.

He parted his lips, let a little breath out. It bubbled up to his left. He tried to turn after them, kick his feet to swim, but he was already starting to see spots, air low. He wasn’t that deep, he knew he wasn’t. Just a few kicks, and Ryan would be there to pull him out.

Something clutched at him. He jerked. It caught his jaw and forced its way inside, sliding past teeth and tongue, down his throat.

//Shane.//

He coughed, dragged in a ragged breath- and realized abruptly that he could breathe. He was still underwater, the thick syrup sliding along his skin. It was still dark. But he could breathe. He’d heard his name from...somewhere. All around him?

//You took something of mine, you know.//

//You...can have it back?// Shane said, half-heartedly. This wasn’t happening, he was drowning- hallucinating - he needed to get out, find the crack in the marble he’d fallen through.

//But you offered something so much better.// 

Something traced his jaw, something that felt like fingertips- or seaweed. Had to be seaweed. Freshwater cave seaweed. That was it.

It curved around his throat, squeezing just once, as if testing its resilience. Shane tried to kick at it, whatever it was, but it wrapped around his shin instead, yanking him down.

//S-stop!// The word didn’t quite come out, Shane starting to panic, clawing at the water, the thick ooze of it hard to tread in.

//Oh, are you afraid I’ll hurt you? It’s true, I could do so much more than this. You gave me permission. I own you.//

The grip on his shin crawled up his thigh, and was joined by a dozen more, dark hands curving over his arms, sliding across his torso. One yanked at his jacket, ripping at his shoulder hard enough for the bone to grind. He cried out, the sound muffled by the fingers gripping his jaw, a thumb running over his tongue. A hand slid along his stomach- it had to be a hand, it wasn’t seaweed, it was a hand that was slipping fingers past his belt to tug him closer.

//Mine,// the voice said again, and Shane shook his head wildly. Fuck no, this wasn’t happening, whatever this was, it was not happening. He thrashed, but hands gripped his wrists and held tight, and his feet kicked at nothing, hands coming from the darkness attached to long tendrils he couldn’t seem to get a hit on.

The hand under his shirt slid up to cup at the muscle of his chest, thumbing across his breastbone. It curved its nails up into a clawed hand before shoving down into his ribs, right over his heart. It should’ve hurt, somewhere inside of him Shane knew that it should hurt, but it felt good, heat blossoming in his chest. The sound that left his throat sounded something like a moan, and the darkness around him whispered heatedly in agreement.

A hand slid up his thigh. Shane jerked, arched his back, but let his knees part, heat gathering in his stomach.

//Go ahead, tell me you’re mine. I want to hear it.//

//I’m...// Part of him paused, even as his long frame undulated with the tendrils in the dark. 

A hand gripped his arm and yanked, and he went forward all at once. The syrup around him turned watery, then clear, and he could see lights above his head, see the wavery forms of Ryan and the rest of the crew, all reaching down to gather him up.

He let them, reaching out to grip Ryan’s leg as soon he could, scrabbling desperately, kicking and hoping for something solid, as they dragged him back onto the marble floor.

“Shane, the fuck, you okay? Shane-” Ryan babbled, letting go of his arm as soon as he was safely on solid ground before cupping his face instead, looking him over. “We couldn’t get the door open, and- and when we did, we saw the broken floor, and the current was going so fast we thought…”

Ryan pulled him into a rough hug, fingers gripping the wet material of his shirt desperately. Shane’s jacket was gone. There were scratches up and down his arms, and his shoulder was already purpling through the tear of his shirt. 

“Current?” Shane tried to croak out, but his voice was nearly gone, something scratchy in his throat. There was no current. It had been thick, placid water, like jelly. 

“Fuck dude, you sound awful. C’mon, lets get you out of here.”

Things went very quickly after that. Shane and Ryan went on ahead, while the rest of the crew packed up. Ryan was saying something about driving to the clinic to get the scratches and shoulder checked out. Shane didn’t care. Ryan had it under control, and he felt very… tired.

As he slumped in the passenger seat, damp and sore, he felt a sharp prick, right under his collarbone. He frowned and shifted in his seat, reaching into his breast pocket. He pulled out the handful of damp withered flowers. The dull, rusty hatpin had still managed to prick him, somehow.

He frowned and closed his hand around the bundle, pressing it to his chest and ignoring the sting as the pin pressed into the fleshy part of his palm. And he watched the streetlights go by, suddenly brighter than he remembered as each passed over his face, the brightest light he’d seen in centuries. 

He was free.


	2. Steam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments everyone. I really appreciate it, they've been making my whole week <3

They drove in silence after leaving the clinic. Shane was pronounced fine; no sign of hypothermia, and his shoulder was bruised, but not sprained. He was going to check in with his regular doctor when they got home, but for now? Everything seemed to have turned out alright.

Ryan was so relieved he couldn’t even find the words. If Shane had got hurt...or worse, Ryan knew he never would have forgiven himself. Shane was only out there doing this dumb shit because of him.

And Shane didn’t seem like he was enjoying himself as much as he used to. Of course he was having fun, mostly; they were friends and it was fun chilling together, even if their hang-out spots were a little unusual. But he seemed to be getting a little more impatient with every session of the spirit box, with every time they stood in dark rooms and didn’t hear anything.

Ryan didn’t blame him. There were alot of hours of silence built up over their career as ghost hunters. It didn’t mean Ryan had stopped believing, but it was frustrating to drag Shane along every time, and to find nothing.

Ryan sighed before pulling into a McDonald’s drive-through, Shane’s favorite. They ate in silence in the car. He tried once or twice to start a conversation, but Shane looked so pale, and so tired, that the conversation petered out.

And so Ryan took him back to their motel.

Shane perked a little once he took a hot shower, now dressed in dry, warm pajamas, curled up on the bed beside Ryan. The motel was crappy enough none of the rooms had double beds, but they were used to sharing by now.

Ryan flipped on the cooking channel. It was airing a Guy Fieri-hosted show they both enjoyed well enough, and they sat in the dim, shoulder to shoulder.

It was the same show that was always on when they spent nights out on the road. It was truly awful, over dramatic and humorous in ways they both knew wasn’t purposeful. They never watched it at home. But something was different in motels, that liminal state between travel and routine, that let awful television be almost mesmerizing. They’d seen dozens of episodes of it by now over their years traveling together.

Shane chuckled softly, curling around his pillow in a loose-limbed ball. 

“What in the hell are they making now? I swear, just a few seasons in, and they’re already starting to escalate.” He looked to Ryan, eyes dead serious, “And this was not a show that needed to escalate.”

Guy Fieri showed off the culinary masterpiece to the cameras. It was a tower of some sort, the chef gushing about alternating layers of sweet and savory, fatty and umami. Shane and Ryan both groaned when the chef mentioned one of the layers being grape jelly, ‘just for the childhood nostalgia factor’. 

Shane snorted. “How come we got the rotten end of the stick? We coulda... coulda been traveling the world eating food like good ‘ol Guy! Not sleepin’ on floors.” He made a lazy gesture to accent his complaint, without lifting his head from his pillow.

“Yeah... you certainly hooked up with the wrong partner for that. Guess you could go fight Andrew for Steven. You could probably take him, unless he’s got a shiv or two made out of office supplies… Oh no, besides, look at that thing. You wouldn’t want to eat that.”

Ryan gestured at the close-up on screen as a meatball slid off the tower of cheese, surrounded by a moat of grease, melted jelly floating in little purple puddles. Shane blanched.

“No, no you’re probably right. Oh- it’s on fire now. Jelly flambé.”

They both ooh’ed together as it was set before the obviously reticent judges. Then, it cut to commercial.

Ryan paused, looking over to Shane, lit only by the flickering lights of the television. The circles under his eyes were dark. Ryan pursed his lips before speaking. It was now or never, before Shane built the walls back up.

“So you’re okay- really okay, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You asked that already.”

“I know, but...really? Like...you almost died, man.”

“I did not. It was a pool of water.” He paused, something dark going over his face for a moment, but it flitted by too fast for Ryan to catch what it was.

“Are you...I mean, we probably shouldn’t talk about this now, but are you even still getting anything out of all of this? Are you bored?”

If they were going to stop this show, this would be the time. Ryan paused, hoping Shane couldn’t read the dread on his face. Shane certainly saw something though, the way his brows furrowed.

“I mean...No, I’m not bored. Do I wish something might happen in them every once in awhile? Sure. I don’t understand how people can keep watching what is essentially the same episode every time.”

Ryan flinched, just a little. Shane was blunt. He was used to it. But still, Unsolved was his baby, and any perceived slight at it was a slight at him.

“Well, there are definitely some new things we could try, I’ve been doing some more research. And there’s always new equipment.” Ryan said after a moment, “The way I see it is, there’s always something we haven’t done yet. ...As long as you wanted to keep trying?”

“Probably, yeah, I don’t know.” Shane curled up a little on the bed, smushing his cheek into the pillow, “Can we talk about this later? I’m tired.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ryan said, a little too quickly, and turned the tv down. They watched it in silence, but Shane was asleep by the next commercial break.

Shane curled up on his side, legs too long to lay out straight on the bed. The awkward angle he slept at also meant he snored, something else Ryan was well-used to. Sometimes, if Shane was really bothering him, he could push him a little onto his side and he would stop. But tonight he looked so wan and worn-out that Ryan let him be.

Ryan slid out of the bed as quietly as possible, going to the bathroom to shower, get ready for bed. It was much too early to sleep, but he didn’t want to bother Shane when he was obviously exhausted.

He showered slow, letting the hot water soothe him, trying to relax enough to sleep. When he stepped out the bathroom was warm with steam, and he closed his eyes to breathe it in slow. 

Everything was fine. 

Shane was fine.

He turned to the sink to reach for his toothbrush and noticed, in the steam of the mirror, a hand drawn little ghost shape. ‘Boo’ was written under it in Shane’s tiny scrawl.

Ryan grinned, and reached out to add underneath it: ‘PROOF. SEE, GHOSTS ARE REAL.’

He laughed, a soft little wheeze, before brushing his teeth and returning to settle into bed beside Shane. 

Shane hummed a little in his sleep and scooted closer, his back pressing up against Ryan’s front. He was cold, even under the blankets and seemed to want to leech off Ryan’s warmth, still radiating heat from the shower. 

Ryan frowned, but let him. It was almost nice, even, tucking his chin against Shane’s neck, and letting his arm drape near his side. Shane stilled again as soon as Ryan settled, sleeping so deep even the snoring had stopped. Ryan would have been worried if he didn’t feel his chest rise and fall against him.

Despite his worries that it was too early to sleep, Ryan faded off quickly, the sound of the nearby trucks on the highway lulling him like white noise, both of them curled close, warm and still and comfortable.

When Ryan awoke again he didn’t know what time is was, but he knew what had woken him up. It was a loud, dripping sound, like the sink was leaking. 

He heard something else, too.

Shane was talking in his sleep. He never done that before, not that Ryan knew of, though Shane was getting fairly good at responding to Ryan while mostly asleep. 

Was he having a nightmare? Was this a stress response of some sort? It had been a long day.

“Shane? You awake?” He whispered quietly.

“There’s water in my skin.” Shane mumbled, rolling over towards him. His face was wet, like he’d been crying in his sleep, red tracks on his cheeks. Ryan’s breath caught in his throat.

“What do you mean? Go back to sleep, Shane, you’re dreaming.” He reached out to pat him on the arm, something he hoped was soothing. The sound of dripping water was so loud— had it been raining while they were asleep? Was there a leak in the roof? Something like that was probably what was triggering Shane’s nightmare.

He seemed to soothe a little under Ryan’s touch, and so Ryan waited until he was still again before he slid out of bed, padding his socked feet across their motel floor to the bathroom in search of the sounds. 

It wasn’t the sink, and it wasn’t the shower. 

It sounded like it was coming from behind him again. He pursed his lips, as goosebumps prickled along his skin. Something felt...off, and he didn’t like it.

Ryan went to the window, tugging aside the dusty curtains. A rich fog had rolled in while they’d been asleep. Unusual for this part of Arizona. He didn’t like that, either.

He turned back to the bed to see Shane sitting up, watching him. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and the sound that left his throat wasn’t the manly sound he’d ever made, he had to admit.

“Shit, Shane! You scared me.”

“Don’t leave the bed.”

“What?” All the heat left his body, all at once. Shane sounded so serious, like he was warning him.

“Come back.”

That was more of a sleepy mumble, something that Ryan was more used to hearing; Shane was good at answering Ryan verbally even while dozing, and this was no different.

No different— just fucking creepy.

“Afraid the shadow monsters are going to get me?” He tried to joke as he came back, hopping a little at the last step to avoid his toes coming near the shadow of under the bed. It was a habit he’d never broken since he was a kid- wasn’t like it was hurting anyone, though. He shifted to grab at the covers, slide back under them.

And then Shane leaned forward to cup his cheek. 

His fingers were cold from being outside the blankets, and goosebumps prickled up Ryan’s arms.

“You. I like you. You should...should help me.”

And he rolled over, and promptly went back to sleep.

Ryan gaped at him for a long moment. “Help? Help with what?”

But Shane was asleep again, and only made a sleepy murble that said he wasn’t going to listen to Ryan interrupting his sleep anymore— a sound Ryan was also familiar with.

Ryan settled back down, watching Shane sleep for a long minute, just waiting for...something. He wasn’t sure what. He had to admit that Shane looked...nicer when he slept, softening his edges, brown hair tousling in every direction.

The dripping sound stopped.

It’d been so loud and now it was completely gone, like a valve shut off. The silence draped over him like a physical presence- heavy- claustrophobic.

Ryan shivered. Had they traveled all that way to that awful mine, just to spend the night in a haunted fucking motel? All the equipment was left with the camera crew in their own room. Ryan didn’t have any way to track the ghosts, or communicate— wait, fuck no, he wasn’t talking to them, not while he was alone and Shane was asleep. 

But there was one thing he could do. He leaned over, opening the audio recorder on his phone. He tapped it on and set it on the nightstand, somewhere near the middle of the room, away enough that their own noises shouldn’t interfere too badly. 

If there was anything here, maybe it would pick it up while they slept.

After that, he snugged deep into the middle of the bed, away from the edges of darkness and honestly, a little closer to Shane. Shane was so anti-ghost that it almost seemed like he repelled them sometimes, and right now Ryan appreciated that. 

Shane was cold, even under the blankets, and he shifted closer in his sleep, seeking Ryan’s warmth. There. They were using each other. That was fine, then.

Everything was fine.

But Ryan didn’t sleep after that, not for a long, long time.


	3. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter got a little long, so I had to cut it in two. Bad news this chapter is now pretty short and is a little more set-up more than anything else. But good news is the first draft of the next chapter is already all written out and I'll post it much sooner than I usually update :) And it'll be bonkers, my friends.

“Hey Shane- think fast!” 

Shane blinked awake just in time for a small nerf ball to bounce off his head. 

His deskmate Curly grinned at him. “You were sleeping. I helped.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I was...trying meditation on for size.”

Curly laughed and let him be, but it was true that Shane wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t really been sleeping all week, dreaming of water and hands in the dark. He kept telling himself, over and over again, that it was just trauma from almost dying. His brain was just...working some things out. No big deal. It would go away. 

People almost died all the time.

The hallucinations still bothered him though, if he thought about them too long. That was a side of his brain he hadn’t been aware of. Imagining clawing hands and things crawling inside him, dragging him down. Ryan was starting to get to him, it seemed.

Although sometimes, when he woke up in a cold sweat, semi-aroused from nightmares of just how...familiar he’d imagined those hands being- and that brought him pause. Why would his subconscious imagine that? It was definitely not a part of him he wanted to over-analyze.

He frowned, thumb brushing the sore, scabbed-over mark on his chest through his shirt. It stung. It was taking its damn time healing, the scab nearly black. That was probably his own fault; if he’d just stop messing with it...

Curly seemed to realize Shane wasn’t in the talking mood, and so he just ruffled his hair as he went by, slipping out a little early- probably to get ready for the party tonight, Shane assumed. Buzzfeed was throwing a retirement party for one of their execs. No plus-ones, but there was an open bar, and that was good enough to create a little excitement among his coworkers. Most people were probably going to be there.

He did not want to go.

Shane spun in his desk seat, fiddling with his pencil. He had video to edit for Ruining History there was always, always more to edit, but his concentration was non-existent. It was midway through Friday and he’d done almost nothing all week. He’d considered calling in sick once or twice, but people were already acting weird around him as the rumors spread, and he certainly didn’t want to encourage that. 

If he was a little late with his final cut, they would probably forgive him. And really, staring at computer screens and playing with all the buttons and sliders and fiddly settings wasn’t working for him right now either, like he was having trouble remembering how to do it. 

Next week would be better, he told himself. It’d be absolutely normal.

Shane glanced at Ryan out of the corner of his eye. With Curly having left, they were now alone in the office.

Ryan didn’t have Shane’s problems. He was sitting at his desk still, headphones on, staring intently at the screen. He was on a tight deadline to figure out whether what they’d taped for the Crestmourn episode would work in some way, or if they needed to come up with something else. He’d spent the week buried in tapes, and they’d barely spoken- that was Shane’s fault, he’d snapped at him the day they were back in the offices, but really, maybe it’d been Ryan’s fault. He was hovering, they all were. Walking on eggshells. Treating him different.

When Shane’s gaze drifted to Ryan’s monitor, he saw himself on the screen, standing in the little chamber. The night vision was on, giving his eyes that odd haunted glow.

Shane swallowed roughly, feeling his heart pace up a beat or two as he watched his own expression grow confused. Nervous.

...as did Ryan’s.

“Holy shit.” Ryan whispered. 

Shane’s hand tightened on his pencil.

“No way- holy- no way-” Ryan slid off his headphones and looked at Shane with wild eyes. Shane furrowed his brows back at him. Ryan had that look in his eyes that said he’d found something. But if Ryan found something, really found something that wasn’t all just bullshit, then maybe...maybe something actually happened back there-

“What is it you think you’ve found now?” Shane tried to tease, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

-hands and darkness, pulling at his clothes, dragging him down-

Ryan gaped at him before handing over his headphones wordlessly. Shane reached out, slipped them over his ears, and Ryan scrubbed back through the timeline. 

Shane appeared again on screen. He saw himself, reacting to a voice. Just a single word, but one he could hear, scraping through the headphones.

“Shane.”

Goosebumps prickled on his arms. Then, the voice had sounded like Ryan calling him. But it didn’t, not anymore; instead, it was a low, crawling whisper that he recognized as the voice from underwater.

Recorded. On tape.

“...What am I supposed to be hearing here?” Shane said. He just wanted a moment, a moment to-

“Bullshit, Shane. That’s your fucking name- and you heard it then too, look-”

Ryan scrubbed through the timeline, back and forth. Shane watched himself straighten up and look around for the voice, over and over again, speaking to something that wasn’t Ryan.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘Shane’. My name is the worst, it could be any microphone bug. Wind on the mic. Fabric scratching. It all sounds like Shh-n.” He mimicked static shorting, shaking his head dismissively. 

His stomach hurt. His chest hurt worse. His heart pounded against the scabbed mark on his skin. It felt wet, like it was bleeding again.

Ryan snorted, “Come on, what are the chances of that? It’s not just something scratching against the microphone, because you react to it on tape.

“Well. What about the rest then? Did you go through the rest of the video?” Shane said. 

The thing, the Not-Ryan, it had said a lot more than just his name. If they got that on tape, too...well...he would have to deal with that when and if they did. But they wouldn’t. Because nothing happened.

Ryan hesitated. “I didn’t, not...yet. I didn’t want to see when- well, you know. When you fell.”

“Put it on. Right now.”

He must have said that sharper than he’d meant to because Ryan hopped to it, unplugging the headphones so they could both listen to the speakers. 

They both leaned in close to the screen, watching as Shane talked to the air. He couldn’t hear what he was responding to, but- he knew. Something asking to borrow him. His body.

“What are you answering? Who were you talking to?” Ryan whispered. He’d gone as white as the ghosts he was normally so unapologetically enthusiastic about, fingers knuckled on his desk.

“I wasn’t- it was just a joke, Ry-”

“Bullshit- why are you fucking lying to me?”

Onscreen, they could see Shane staring down at his fingertips. He was obviously horrified, although Shane couldn’t see now what he could see back then, his fingertips brimming black like he’d burnt them to coal.

The ground opened up and Shane slipped through, and both of them jumped. 

Ryan minimized the program with a jerky click. He didn’t seem to hear the last moment before it closed, but Shane certainly did. The same voice, wavering in and out.

“...Took someth…”

He shuddered, visibly enough that Ryan softened.

“You always told me you were sincerely looking for proof, that you weren’t trying to dismiss all this for no reason... So why are you dismissing this?”

“Look at the tape, Ryan! I’m talking to nothing- the air! That’s not proof, that’s just me having a fuckin’ mental break-down or something.”

“Shane, you’re being-”

“You can’t take that to anyone, it’s bullshit. It’s just your skeptic partner pretending to have heard something to get ratings. That’s all they’ll say.”

“But you did hear something, didn’t you?”

Shane paused. He stood.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not proof.”

“Shane!” Ryan scrambled after him. Shane was walking quickly, and with his longer legs he knew it would take a second for Ryan to catch up- a second he could use to gather his wits, catch his breath. He’d already reached the door to the office when Ryan called out.

“You can talk to me.”

It was so quiet, so sincere that Shane stopped. He turned, only to see the relief washing over Ryan’s face- Ryan was terrible about hiding his expressions. Shane quirked a smile, just a small, sideways one.

“...I know.”   
Shane sighed, scraped his fingers over his scalp. There was no point keeping all this from Ryan, he’d just... wanted a chance to figure it out for himself first, before Ryan could slap his own theories over it.

“I just thought- thought, mind you- that I’d heard you talking. Back there. Not a ghost- you.”

Ryan blinked, taking a moment to parse that out. “...Me? Well, what did I say?”

Shane looked around. They were standing the middle of their fucking office. The sun was setting through the windows. He could still hear a few people chatting in the kitchen around the corner- they weren’t actually alone, like he’d thought. It was a bright, cheery California evening, and this was all so...stupid.

“...Can we talk about it somewhere...not here? Later. Maybe- your house, tomorrow.”

“Sure!” Ryan brightened. “We can make it our movie night. It’s your choice this time.”

“Oh, I don’t care. ” Shane waved him off, “You choose. See you at the party tonight.”

He turned to leave. Ryan was headed to the same place, they usually would have split a Lyft- or walked, even- but Shane was….tired. He ordered one himself, and dozed off in the backseat as it headed downtown. Buzzfeed had rented out a saloon-themed bar nearby for the night, which had sounded like fun at the time. Lots of potential for coworkers making dumb cowboy jokes.

His excitement for the party had been doused over the last few days, but he could feel himself starting to warm to the idea, drowsy haze lifting. 

Maybe this was what he needed; just a chance to have fun, let loose, forget about this whole week. He couldn’t remember the last time he just went out, had some drinks, stayed out late and got wild. His wife hated when he did that, said he got ‘aggressive’ when he drank- he rolled his eyes, before something settled heavy in his stomach.

...Wife?

Shane had a lot of things going on in his life, but a wife was not one of them. But that didn’t stop him from imagining her, honey-blond hair and strong arms - what was her name, again? Ru- Ror- no.

“Here we are!” the Lyft driver said, and Shane jumped in his seat. He stumbled out of the car, and into the bar.

Andrew punched him in the arm as he came through the crowd, Steven smiling beside him and lifting his drink in greeting, but they were the only two to notice him before he found the bathroom.

He leaned heavily on the sink, and looked in the mirror at his sunken eyes and faded expression. 

He was Shane Madej. And Shane Madej did not believe in ghosts. Maybe if all of this was real, actual proof, but it wasn’t. This was any number of things. Stress. Sleep deprivation. Post-trauma something or other.

Not ghosts.

He stared critically at his reflection. His dark eyes stared back. He kept his own gaze, searching, but long seconds passed and all he saw-- was himself. Just tired, haggard around the edges. What else did he expect to find? ...Maybe he just needed a fucking vacation.

He shook his head, splashing water on his face, and left the bathroom. He made a beeline for the bar.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender said cheerfully.

Shane gave him a smile he wasn’t feeling. “A drink for me and my friend- we just got here and need to catch up. Whiskey, on the rocks. And a shot for me.”

He took the shot when the bartender passed it over, letting it burn down his throat without so much as a face. And then he took both drinks when they were finished, making his way to a corner that wasn’t full yet. He threw back one drink, and then started on the other.

A drink for him, and a drink for his friend.


	4. Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR ALL THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS. For reals. I've been writing OC ghost-hunter stuff for a long time now, well before Unsolved. And so when I fell in love with the show, and got a new story idea, I decided to make it fanfic instead of OC. I have no regrets. I'd been feeling really discouraged about my writing, but watching all of you be so excited has lifted my spirits a lot. So thank you <3  
> (Also, does anyone know how I keep my italics when transfering my doc over here? Some of the italics were kinda important in this chp, but I've noticed they're gone now.)

Ryan wouldn’t have been interested in sharing a Lyft to the party, anyway. He’d gone back to his desk after Shane left, scrubbing through the video over and over again, listening to Shane talk to dead air. Shane hadn’t been lying when he said he’d thought it was Ryan speaking to him- he could tell by the tone of his voice. What ‘they’ had been talking about was a different matter entirely, as Ryan only really had one side of that conversation on tape.

//  
“I still have two minutes left.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You know the answer to that. I’d like to see them try. If they really can, why not, y’know?”  
//

Ryan frowned. What wouldn’t he do? Who was ‘they’? But then he was back to the part of the tape where Shane was shouting, stumbling back to slam into the door hard enough to make it give a little under him, the ancient mildewed wood splintering. It explained why it took so long for Ryan to get the door open, shoving at it over and over again while Shane screamed just on the other side.

Ryan shuddered and rewound it back again. He didn’t want to see that, see the pain and fear written so plainly on Shane’s face. It wasn’t...natural, or right, or something. Shane didn’t get scared of all this. It was almost weirdly clinical just how much Shane didn’t get scared. 

What had he seen? What did he hear? Why didn’t he want to talk about it?

The video ran through again and then Ryan caught something he hadn’t before, a naked rasp of a sound he barely caught between Shane’s shouts of his name.

It was the same disembodied voice that’d spoken Shane’s name. He was sure of it.

Ryan isolated the clip so he wouldn’t have to hear the rest, gritting his teeth. It looped in his head.

“Took someth-”

“Took someth-”

“Took someth-”

He made a frustrated noise and shut it all off, leaning back in his chair. He would have to get it out of Shane eventually- Shane would have to want to talk, wouldn’t he? 

...And in the meantime, he was sitting alone in a dark office, well after everyone else had gone to the party. This week had been genuinely awful. He should try and have some fun, breathe for a minute. If anything, he should try and make sure Shane was actually having fun. 

Maybe then they’d both stop fraying.

….

When Ryan finally stepped through the doors, he was a couple hours late, and the party was in full swing. Flashing lights lit up the bar area, the other areas dim with cozy lamplight and filled to the brim with people. Ned and his wife were to the left- he’d managed to sneak her into the private party somehow despite the no plus one rule. Ryan would never be able to guess how he managed to get away with things like that, but he was very good at it. Ned gave him a friendly wave, as did a whole round of coworkers (with varying degrees of sobriety) as Ryan gently pushed past them to the bar.

He ordered a beer and waited for the early party jitters to settle down, until he could feel like he belonged. Him and Shane both were never very good at parties, especially big, loud ones like this. They usually made their appearances, and then slipped out back to hang with the smokers for the quiet, and better conversations.

He attempted a small joke with Zack while waiting for his drink but the guy was gone, swaying to the music and singing to himself. Ryan gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, “Lemme know if you need me to order you a ride later, my friend. Hey, you seen Shane around?”

“Oh yeah, Shane, my man! The guy’s a rockstar, man. Rockstar. Love him.”

“Rockstar, pain in the ass. Same difference.” Ryan said with a smile, “Got a direction for me?”

Zack pointed to the ‘barn’, an inner area walled off with fake plywood barn walls, seating areas and softer lighting further separating it from the dance floor. Ryan followed to find Shane sitting cross-legged atop one of the tables in the corner, surrounded by a small crowd.

He was probably pretty drunk, from what Ryan could tell. His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed, and he gesticulated a little more animatedly than usual as he was speaking. Ryan caught the tail-end of his story as he came closer.

“-So this asshole, he doesn’t back off, right? And at this point, it’s my goddam reputation on the line. I shove him, just a little, and he shoves right back. So this is my opportunity to just lay one on him. My fist just smashes into his jaw and I swear some teeth rattled loose. And I-”

“-That never fuckin’ happened Shane.” Ryan interrupted with a furrow of his brows, giving a short laugh. 

Shane’s gaze whipped his way, and his eyes narrowed. “You think I only ever hang out with you?”

Ryan blinked. Shane sounded irritated. Looked like it too for a split second, until his expression softened back into a grin. “C’mon on over Ryan, take a seat! We’re just exchanging stories about all the crazy shit we’ve ever done.”

Ryan came over after a concerned pause, pulling up a seat beside Jen who was standing near the back. It was too crowded to sit closer to Shane, the center of attention. Jen was dancing, just a subtle sway to the beat of the song. Good for her- Ryan didn’t think he’d ever seen her dance before, actually.

“Anyway, I’ve been talking this whole night, haven’t I?” Shane said, raising his hands wide, a large grin on his face. The crowd made noises of disagreement, but he gestured out to them anyway.

”Who’s next, who’s next…”

He looked very deliberately over them all, before pausing on Andrew and Steven. They were both pretty drunk, Ryan could tell that easy enough. Andrew pinked and grinned more easily after a couple of drinks, and Steven- Steven hung onto people when drunk, cuddly and affectionate. Andrew frequently bore the brunt of that curse. Steven’s arms were laid sloppily over his shoulders even now, as Shane studied them. Shane had to be drunk too, but it was the weirdest sort of drunk Ryan had ever seen. Shane was just...staring at the two boys with something almost like...disgust on his face? That couldn’t have been right, though; he liked Andrew and Steven.

“Steven! Tell us your story!” Shane clapped. 

Steven promptly flustered, looking around the crowd and laughing. “Oh, no, no, I’m- I’m good, you know. Just chilling- like. Bein’ chill.”

Shane should have known better than to call Steven out like that, Ryan knew. Steven didn’t do great at the center of attention.

“C’mon.” Shane’s smile turned sly. His gaze slid to Ryan, studying him for a long moment. Ryan couldn’t read him at all. 

And then, Shane turned back to Steven.

“Come here.”

Steven blinked, and let his arms fall from Andrew. He came over to stand in front of Shane. Shane grinned and reached out long arms to collect him in, letting his legs come uncrossed to hang down, so Steven could step between his knees. 

Steven gave him a small, flustered smile.

And then Shane leaned forward to press their lips together.

Ryan gaped. He vaguely heard the sounds of shock and amusement, but mostly he was just caught on the image presented to him. 

Shane had a hand in Steven’s hair, and the kiss was...long. Thorough. Ryan saw tongue. And the way Steven’s back arched to press up against Shane as Shane pulled him in by a hand firm on Steven’s slim hips. Shane rucked up against him once before the kiss finally broke, and Steven took in a little breath in response. 

Steven was bright red when they came apart, but- didn’t seem to mind, otherwise.

“Now you got a story.” Shane winked. 

Ryan stared in silence. He did not know how many drinks it would take to get Shane fuckin’ Madej to kiss a boy. To kiss fucking Steven-

“-what the fuck, Shane?” Ryan said. A breathless hush fell over the crowd. 

They all turned to face him. It was silent, up until Keith said- “Oh shit, it’s a love triangle!”

Nervous laughter rippled through the crowd.

“More ‘n a love triangle. I’d fuck Shane,” Kelsey snorted in laughter. Some of the others nodded in agreement. Ryan was pretty sure he was going insane.

“It’s okay, everyone, chill, chill.” Shane said, lowering his hands. The crowd complied, settling down into expectant silence. Except for Ryan.

“What the hell is going on? Is this all some elaborate practical joke? I am so fuckin’ confused.”

Maybe some of his coworkers, he could imagine them playing along. Like Steven; he loved the guy, but he also had a weird sense of humor Ryan didn’t get sometimes. But some of them just wouldn’t, and why would Shane think this was so damn funny anyway- it was all so weird. Wrong, even.

They were all watching him now, instead of Shane. Ryan shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. There was only the pulse of the music in their imitation-Western room. He turned toward Jen helplessly- at least her, he could read like a book.

“What’s happening?” 

But Jen only shrugged, and kept swaying to the music. “What do you mean, Ry-Ry? It’s okay, here, have another drink.” She offered up her own cup, but he furrowed his brows and gently pushed it away.

Everyone else was still watching him for some reason, except for Steven (his gaze was blinking back and forth between Shane and Andrew). Steven started to disentangle himself from Shane’s grip, but Shane held tight to his wrist. Steven startled, and so did the rest of the group, murmurs running through it. 

Shane pursed his lips, let go of Steven, and hopped off the table. 

“I’m gonna grab another round of drinks,” he called out cheerily. Shane pushed through the crowd slowly, his hands brushing shoulders, arms, hips as they parted for him. Until he stood before Ryan. 

They watched each other for a long moment, and Shane slid an arm around his shoulder.

“C’mon, baby! Come help me carry them.”

“Hey, don’t call me that-!” 

Shane liked to tease, liked to use that pet name for emphasis, but it’d never been so directly aimed at him before.

But Shane was already walking, reaching out a hand to close it around Ryan’s wrist, yanking him after him. It hurt, Shane’s fingers digging into flesh and bone. Ryan scrambled to keep up as he dragged him across the dance floor. People were dancing, and they were really into it, bumping and grinding against one another. Several of his coworkers, men and women alike, were missing their shirts. 

Ryan gaped at them as he stumbled after Shane. There were executives here- this was a work party-

“We were havin’ a good time, Ryan! Why’d you have to ruin it?”

“Excuse me?”

Shane dragged him all the way to the bar counter, and only then did he let go. Ryan rubbed his wrist, lips in a snarl.

“The hell is your problem, man? This isn’t like you.” 

Shane was a silly, sleepy drunk, couple of beers and he was curled up on the couch, babbling happily about something or another. Not... whatever this was.

The bartender set down two shots in front of them, not waiting for an order. Shane grinned and held one out to Ryan in offering.

“Cheers! To living another day.”

Ryan’s expression pursed, even as Shane’s remained placid. This couldn’t be some sort of breakdown… thing, could it? It was so fuckin’ strange- and anyway it wasn’t as if it was only Shane; he was getting a weird feeling from everyone else, too. Was he being paranoid…?

He took the shot glasses out of Shane’s hands.

“I think you’ve had enough. We should- should go home. I’ll call a ride for you.”

“Ryan, you are entirely too sober. If you don’t want me to have one, well. You take ‘em both. Right now.” 

There was something intense there in the tone of his voice, his dark eyes studying Ryan’s face. 

Ryan stared right back. “How about a compromise. I take both- and then we go. We can sober up at my place.”

Shane looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Deal.”

Ryan pursed his lips. He was a lightweight, and Shane knew it. But just two shots and the drink he’d had before, that wasn’t so bad. He threw back one, then the other, coughing a bit without a chaser. 

Shane laughed and slapped him on the back, “There ya go, buddy!”

“Okay, now let’s go.”

“Okay.”

Shane threw an arm around him again, and Ryan steered him towards the exit. They’d almost made it when Shane suddenly spun, pushing him down the darker hallway that led to the bathrooms and the employee area. Ryan yelped in surprise.

Shane shoved him up against the wall, grasping his chin to stare him down, Ryan’s eyes wide. Shane’s eyes were so dark here in the shadows, something strange glinting there-

“The- what the shit, Shane-”

Shane studied him a moment longer, before pursing his lips in disappointment. “Aw hell, this isn’t going to work on you, is it? Bummer. I just wanted to have a enjoyable night with you, but you’re just gonna keep being like this.”

“Work- what- let go of me.”

He shoved at Shane’s chest and while Shane was taller, Ryan was stronger. But even so, Shane stood firm. He didn’t even budge an inch. Ryan could feel Shane’s heartbeat under his palm, pulsing rapid-fire. 

Ryan took a breath, and tried a different tactic.

“What did you hear back there, in the mines? What did you hear that scared you so badly you’d be flipping out like this?” Shane did not believe in ghosts. His world had to have been turning upside down. 

Ryan was breathing fast, too fast, and he relaxed only minutely when Shane let go of his jaw. They were still close, the back of Ryan’s head pressed against the wall.

“I’m fine, Ryan.”

“Bullshit-”

Shane grabbed a handful of Ryan’s shirt, pulling him in until their frames pressed together firmly. He could feel Shane’s hips press into his- closer than they’d ever been- Shane was hot to the touch, and something just felt...off. Wrong. 

Ryan responded aggressively, pushing back at his chest with his hands and shoving a knee into his thigh as a warning that he could go higher if Shane didn’t fucking back off.

Shane laughed instead, his free hand coming up to smooth at the collar of Ryan’s shirt even as he held tight with the other. He brushed their noses together and Ryan went still, stunned.

“It’s alright, James- Ryan. Ryan. You know me. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

He smiled, but Ryan stiffened, the floor a little shaky under his feet. His own voice echoed in his head, from one of their shoots a long time ago.

Shane, one of these days we’re gonna bring something back, this isn’t funny-

“‘James’? ...Who are you?” Ryan asked, softly. Shane paused, and then laughed.

“That’s not your middle name? I was attempting a joke. Ryan James Bergara.”

“No, you know that’s not-”

“You know Ryan, you interrupted me with the group back there, before I could finish telling my story. Do you want to hear the end of it?”

“Shane, fuckin’ stop it, just let go-”

“-Let me finish, Ryan. So, I’m standing there with that asshole prick with the newly broken nose, right? And you know what I did? I stabbed him. Took the cutlery and shoved it right between his ribs. Hit a lung, I think, by how fuckin’ slow it took the bastard to die.”

Shane grinned, and it was all wrong, too big, all teeth. It wasn’t Shane, it wasn’t- it was- oh fuck, it was something else. Had to be. Ryan could feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. A cold sweat tickled his ribs. Shane was so close he could smell the whiskey on him.

And then, Shane started laughing. 

He let go of Ryan and nearly doubled over. 

“Oh my god, your face.”

Shane leaned over, hands on his knees, laughing until his eyes started to water. Ryan stood there, dumbfounded. Shane wiped a tear away. He patted Ryan on the shoulder, and Ryan flinched and backed up a step, accidentally smacking into the wall again.

“Ryan, I’m not infested with some demon, alright? You were getting all antsy and paranoid about me, and it was pissing me off. I thought it’d be funny to mess with you. Clearly.”

“No, that’s not... everyone else was acting weird, too-”

“Everyone else is drunk, Ryan. Did you see how the bartender was just handing out shots? It’s bad management, really.”

“No, but you, you kissed Steven? You can’t tell me your near-death experience was also some sort of gay awakening-” Or maybe it was? If Shane had always been and was just… afraid or something, or… fuck, Ryan’s head hurt. He could feel the drinks swimming behind his eyes.

Shane laughed, “Awakening? Oh, you’re charming, Bergara. That’s not how I’d word it at all. I’d fuck anyone who properly worshipped me.” He gave a cheeky grin and one of the drunken winks Ryan was so familiar with. 

And then Shane shrugged, loosely, “No, I’m just sick and tired of the Andrew and Steven show. They need to hurry and fuck already; it’s getting on my damn nerves.” 

“Fuck… ?” Ryan was so overwhelmed- there was so much information being thrown around that he was not at all familiar with. Shane patted his cheek.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just lemme work through some stuff. I’m still good ‘ol Shane Madej- it was just a stupid prank. But really, you looked terrified. I had no idea that would work so well-” 

“Yeah you did-”

“Yeah. I did.”

If it was a demon, it was very clever at mimicking Shane. His body language, his vocal inflections. Ryan didn’t know what to think. But what he did know was that if this was a fuckin’ demon, it would be probably be better for him if it thought Ryan trusted Shane- trusted it. He tried to calm down, breathing deep. And if it was really just Shane, going through some things...Well, further attacking him would not be helpful.

“You’re such an asshole.” Ryan said, and tried to wheeze out a laugh. Shane grinned, hooking a couple fingers into Ryan’s beltloop to pull him in closer, away from the wall. A long arm slipped around his waist.

“C’mon! Another drink.”

“No, I-” 

They stepped back into the bright lights of the main area. Ryan had to blink a few times as the lights danced over his pupils oddly. There was such a weird energy to the place, making Ryan’s skin crawl like they were on location. Ryan had felt unsettled like this before, but never in public- let alone a place full of people. 

To his left, it looked like Eugene and Ned were in a shoving match, a crowd cheering them on. To his right Andrew and Steven sat in the corner, arguing. Ryan couldn’t hear what about, Andrew’s voice low and forced, but he could tell by their expressions that they were both upset.

Shane crowed as Eugene got a good hit in, Ned stumbling backwards.

Ryan shook his head, trying to keep his feet. His vision was blurring; it shouldn’t be this bad after a few drinks. He needed to not... be here anymore. 

He ducked out from Shane’s arms, and Shane turned to him, brows raised.

“Don’t go yet.”

“I...I want to. I don’t feel good.” That definitely wasn’t a lie, at least.

Shane studied him for a moment, before sighing. “Fine. Guess I can’t stop you.” A grin, “Not yet, anyway.”

“Haha, real fuckin’ funny, Shane.”

Ryan backed up towards the exit, bumping into Kelsey. She lit up and gave him a drunken kiss on the cheek, lipstick smearing. But then Jen pulled her back in, and they went back to making out. Ryan blinked, before turning to run.

The exit doors slammed open and cold night air hit his cheeks, the unsettling cloud that’d laid thick over his lungs immediately dissipating. He fumbled with his phone to call a Lyft.

Behind him, he could see Shane laughing and waving after him, surrounded by their friends.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Bergara!”

Oh fuck. Fuck, that was right.

They would be alone. Together. At his house. IN his house.

….Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shane's drunken wink is adorable. I hope all of you have seen the video where the try the IV hangover cure, because it's the best. Re-watching it, I think they might actually BE at the bar I had in mind when writing this. :o I'd gone there for a work party once, and remembered liking all the weird nooks and crannies it had. And I know it's close to Buzzfeed. So maybe?? How weird haha  
> EDIT: I made it a gif, bc it didn't seem to exist yet. Merry Christmas: https://giphy.com/gifs/buzzfeed-shane-bfu-2xPMQ779a2eZo8kUzJ


	5. Double Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday the 13th!

Shane came to slowly to the feel of smooth sheets against his bare skin. Sunlight trickled through the curtains. Everything felt luxurious and he stretched with a pleased noise in his throat, rolling over onto his side.

His bare toes brushed a calf. He lifted his head from the pillow, blinking sluggishly. There was a person in front of him... Ned? Sound asleep, loose-limbed, last night’s black eye already prominent. Shane stared at him for a long moment, before rolling over onto his other side to see Ariel. A coworker he’d barely spoken two words to, his coworker’s wife, and him, lying between them. 

Shane rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t remember last night well, but he knew he was still weak, and that people made him stronger. Marks, he’d called them.

Ned and Ariel.

His first marks.

They were still living, more’s the pity- he could see their chests rise and fall, both of them disheveled in their tangled sheets. He wasn’t strong enough to truly take them, not until he rebuilt his altar. They would wake up in a day or two, none the worse for wear.

But fucking them had been enjoyable anyway.

He slid out of bed, not bothering to be quiet. He wouldn’t wake them. He wrapped their expensive sheets around his shoulders, letting them flutter after him as he made his way barefoot through their house, looking for his clothes. 

Shane caught a glimpse of himself in a full-length mirror in the living room. He looked a wreck, dark red circles underlining his eyes, skin pale and wan. The cut on his chest was mostly scabbed over, but with a dark black substance that hurt to poke at. 

This wasn’t a mental break, he knew it wasn’t, not with how everyone else was treating him last night; like he was a god of their tiny kingdom. It was exactly like it’d been before, but easier. He spent years trying to gather power and influence the first time around, but this time, after several centuries, it seemed easier to pull people into his sway.

And see? Those were _not_ his thoughts. Those were the thoughts of a dead man that Shane knew intimately. That Shane was, essentially.

Shane rocked back on forth on his feet in front of the mirror. The edges of him blended and blurred, like a double exposure. Himself, but something extra. It- _he’d_ \- grown more powerful after the party, Shane could feel it in his gut. 

He suddenly laughed, a short humorless bark, and lifted the sheet to let it fall over his head, the cool cotton brushing his cheeks as it draped over his body. He closed his eyes. There. Now he really was a ghost boy. He smiled, a little bitterly.

He could feel the...thing inside him. It wasn’t like he’d imagined- had he really thought about it before, though? It was a whispery sort of feeling, like a breeze on the inside, tickling at his heart and lungs like sheets on a laundry cord.

The little he had thought about being possessed, he had figured it was supposed to be a little bit like clocking out, something else taking over entirely. Or maybe being trapped in your brain, while something else ran your body. This... wasn’t either of those things. He was distinctly Shane Madej, and also... distinctly someone else. Their thoughts blended and blurred together, alternated and took turns.

It was a little bit like being sick, was the closest metaphor he could come up with. He was there, but not really at full capacity, and if he tried to concentrate, force his own will through, he just wore down faster. And sleeping was the easiest thing to do, but when he slept, he woke up in strange places, having done strange things.

Well, maybe that last part was where the ‘sick’ metaphor broke down a little.

He’d tried to tell Ryan what had happened last night, but it hadn’t worked. A _‘joke’_ , he’d said. He kind of remembered that part. He didn’t really remember much after it. It was the drinking, he’d been pretty sure. As he’d had more to drink, his will took a step back and other things stepped forward. He wouldn’t do that again. He’d tell Ryan today. Right now. There were exorcists and holy water, and people who knew what to do with these sorts of things. 

Ryan could help.

He let the sheets slip off, and went to find Ned’s shower, scrubbing off quickly; his own shower was not on the way to Ryan’s and he did not want to show up smelling like whiskey and sex. Not after seeing Ryan’s face when he’d kissed Steven- that was something else he’d have to process, later. Fuck he was tired. 

He retrieved his clothes after the shower, but after smelling them with a wince, he borrowed a shirt from Ned too, because, well, fuck it. He could return it if he hadn’t killed them all in the very near future.

Ryan’s house wasn’t far from Ned’s. Ned lived in the housing tract, and Ryan in a smaller townhouse a few blocks over- Shane could walk, rather than waiting for a Lyft. It would give him a chance to get his thoughts together, claim as much of ‘Shane’ as he could.

It wasn’t easy.

Memories and thoughts he knew weren’t his were blended in so deeply with his own that it was hard to tell where he ended and ‘he’ began. But it shouldn’t be so complicated to separate them, right? 

Shane just had to stop and logically parse them out, one by one. 

For example, he knew there wasn’t a spittoon in any of the places he frequented in modern Los Angeles, so therefore, though he could remember the slosh and burn of tobacco against his gums, more than likely that wasn’t his memory. Simple, right?

The memory of Steven’s lips against his... was less simple. He’d never kissed a man before and he knew that, but still, somewhere inside of him he remembered a string of male lovers, tangled together with him in rough cotton sheets- although, see? Not his memory. He had fucking jersey knit.

He snorted once. It was a bright sunny mid-morning, the streets lined with palm trees and smelling like orange blossoms. A beautiful, perfect California day. 

But he kept looking over his shoulder, to watch the faintly glowing footprints that he was sure only he could see. Just slightly out of step with his own.

Shane shivered and broke into a jog the rest of the block, ringing Ryan’s doorbell without taking the time to text him. He’d never rung Ryan’s doorbell in his life and it was louder than he thought it would be, making him jump a little.

Ryan answered it, peering out the door with tousled hair sticking up everywhere, still in his pajamas. His eyes widened when he saw Shane; a moment of fear softened into surprise.

“You’re here so early, sorry, sorry, I-” He said, taking a step back, “Come in- I mean-” His brows rose at what he’d just done, and Shane gave a bitter chuckle.

“Giving permission for the demon to enter, huh?” Shane teased, and Ryan reddened.

“Come on, man. You gotta admit you were acting weird last night. Don’t fucking mess with me.”

“I just like keeping ya on your toes.”

Shane entered, not even bothering to comment on the line of salt he stepped over, and Ryan shifted back to let him. He’d been in Ryan’s house a million times, but that almost felt like another lifetime ago. His gaze lingered on the comfortable couch, the things thrown haphazardly around; Ryan’s jacket thrown over the back of the chair, wallet and keys on the coffee table because he somehow never had a set place for them. Shoes, abandoned by the TV. A plastic squirtgun laid on the end table by the door. Shane raised his brows at it.

“Got that prepared to defend yourself against me?”

Ryan stiffened, shook his head quickly. “No, nah, it’s just still left out from before. Don’t really have a place to-”

“Go ahead. Shoot me.”

“What?”

“Go ahead. It’ll be fun. You can see my skin’s not melting off, and then you’ll feel better.” Shane picked up the water gun, handing it to Ryan. And then held out his hands to show he was unarmed, amused.

“Do it.” 

Part of him was curious. Would he smoke and burn and scream? Maybe it would work, and Ryan would burn it out of him. He’d be free.

“What are you waiting for? Do it.” He repeated.

“This is so fuckin’ dumb. You really want me to?”

Ryan wanted to do it. He was so easy to read. He was frightened, hand tight on the trigger, and both sides of Shane wanted- no, needed him to calm down.

“Do it, or I’ll murder you right here.” Shane winked and took a step forward, arms still held out wide. Ryan lifted the gun in jerky reflex and pulled the trigger. Holy water hit Shane right in the chest. 

He blinked, and looked down at the rapidly spreading wet splotch.

Ryan’s relief when it doesn’t work is evident.

Shane’s disappointment is less so.

Shane felt his heart sink. Nothing but a wet shirt sticking to his skin. The cut on his chest burned- dammit, he’d gotten the bandage wet- but other than that…

He gave a short bark of laughter, “Oh my god, you actually did it. My shirt’s all wet, Ryan.”

Ryan fumbled, set the gun down, “Well, you wanted me to!”

“Not a demon, Ryan,” he reminded him. No, he was certainly something else. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of who he was, who he is now, both of them clashing together. 

In the meantime, he stepped past Ryan. 

“Got a shirt I could borrow? What’re we watching tonight?”

Ryan ran up the steep steps to his room, and came back down with a shirt to toss at Shane. “Ed Wood’s filmography made it to Netflix, so I picked Bride of the Monster. I’ll make the popcorn.”

Shane shrugged in agreement, and went into the bathroom to change; normally, he wasn’t modest, and it was just a shirt, but something told him he needed to. 

Pulling the shirt up over his head immediately showed him why.

The bandage on his chest was wet with the holy water and stained black, inky blood soaking through and starting to run down his bare ribs. He tugged at the bandage. It immediately burned, and he hissed as the bandage tore loose and took the rough scab with it. Black ink poured down his chest.

“Oh fuck- fuck,” he yelped, grabbing a handful of toilet paper to try and soak it up before it stained his jeans. It stung something fierce.

So apparently the holy water did do something. It just needed to be... on the inside? Shane wasn’t sure; there’d only been one priest back in Crestmourn back then, and he hadn’t gotten involved with Shane’s dealings.

So an IV drip or something, then- would that stop him? Tear the other him out? Shane laughed at the image, black streaming up the IV drip, holy water burning through his veins. Good times.

He pressed hard at the cut until it’d mostly come to a sluggish stop, slapped another bandage on it from Ryan’s medicine cabinet and came back to the other man, flopping on the couch beside him. 

Half of him wanted to warn Ryan, spill everything. Shane was assuming that was his normal, logical self. Ryan probably wouldn’t know exactly what to do, but he would know how to find out. Anyway, he knew a hell of a lot more about this kinda stuff than Shane did. Ryan could help him. But there was half of him that didn’t, that needed Ryan to remain ignorant, at least for a couple more days until everything else could be fully set in motion.

“Ryan, I-” Shane started. 

He stopped. He didn’t want to tell him.

“Ryan-”

He wanted to tell him.

Ryan turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow, “Everything okay?” He asked, softly.

Shane snorted and shook his head, “I need-”

I need you to know there’s something here with us, inside me. Please get it out-

That’s all he needed to say. Two sentences.

“There’s-”

Ryan’s brows furrowed, and he leaned a little closer. “If there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

Sure he could. He tried, one last time, lips parting, forcing the words out one by one. 

“Ryan, there’s a problem, with me, you need to-” He tried to rush them out as fast as possible, but there was a sharp prick on his tongue, and he tasted copper. He cupped a hand over his mouth.

“Oh shit, Shane- are you bleeding?”

“Bit my tongue.” He mumbled around his fingers. 

No, he hadn’t. He was punishing himself. He knew that now. Ryan couldn’t know. Ryan would have to die if he got in the way, and neither Shane wanted that.

“You know…” Ryan said, eying him thoughtfully, “We could go see that exorcist again, if that would make you feel better.”

Shane gave him a dirty look, “I don’t need an exorcist. A therapist, maybe.”

Ryan shrugged, “Exorcists and therapists aren’t mutually exclusive. I figure, let’s cover our bases.”

It was kind of a joke, Ryan’s lips twitching into a smile. But Shane could tell he was worried, and it was going to take a lot to put him at ease again. Maybe too much so.

It was a shame that out of all people it could have been, it was Ryan who was immune to the calling. Sure, there’d been a few other immune folk that he could tell so far, people he would have to file away for later. Andrew definitely, for one, by the way he was glowering at the party- the look on Andrew’s face when he’d kissed Steven? Well, that had just been a _delight._

He snorted at the memory, but then softened his expression at Ryan’s furrowed brows. Oh yeah. Staying on topic. Comforting Ryan.

He reached out, and laid a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Usually Ryan wasn’t the type to touch much without reason, but he let him this time.

“We can do both.” Shane promised, softly. “If that would make you feel better. I just… something’s not right, but we’ll take care of it.”

He smiled, and after a hesitant moment, Ryan mirrored him.

“...So yeah!” Shane flopped back on the couch, folding his hands behind his head, “Are we done talking about this? ‘Cause it weirds me right the hell out. The real question is, Ryan, if I start believing in ghosts, is it not going to completely screw up our show’s whole formula?”

“Well- maybe,” Ryan laughed, and leaned over next to him. He grabbed the remote to flick on the TV.

Shane wanted to lean in closer, but after a quick recalculation he knew that wasn’t his impulse- it was other-Shane’s. He and Ryan never sat close, opposite sides of the couch for optimal room as they passed the bowl of popcorn between them.

And so that’s what they did. They talked through the whole movie; Ryan had picked a terrible one this time, probably on purpose so that he wouldn’t be distracted from studying Shane to make sure he was acting normal, looking over one too many times to be subtle.

But as the afternoon went on, Ryan startled to settle down; the jokes were familiar, their banter the same. He was still Shane, after all. Mostly. Kind of.

There was only one time that he fucked up, the whole movie. 

Ryan reached for popcorn, only to find the bowl empty. Shane stood, offered to refill it. He took the bowl from Ryan’s lap while looking over at the TV screen. An actor in the movie had curly hair, dark, shiny locks, and Shane paused to admire them. He reached out then, brushing his fingers through Ryan’s cropped hair as he passed. “How come you don’t wear your hair like that anymore? I liked your curls.”

He immediately realized his misstep. That was fucking _James_ again, not Ryan, fuck fuck fuck-

Ryan looked up at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

“Hah, sorry, thinking of someone else.”

He fairly fled to the kitchen before Ryan could comment any further. He cursed again- why did it have to be Ryan immune to the calling? Things would be so much simpler if he was as easily under his sway as say, Ned.

Although, there was an off chance this could work out for him. Ryan and James being so familiar in his head could be useful. He himself hadn't had much choice in the matter of whose head he inhabited. He could have done worse- Shane was intelligent, and fairly charismatic- but he was still stuck trying to untangle their differences in needs, wants, even patterns of thought. They were clashing enough that every action he wanted to take was a frustrating uphill battle of their two wills.

What he did know was that the less contradictions there were between their minds, the easier things would be. And If he could crawl out of that hellish mine in someone else’s body, so could the rest of them, if he wanted them too. And James could have a shell that already fit.

He threw the bag of popcorn into the microwave, leaning against the counter thoughtfully. Ryan was smart, and more importantly, Ryan was fucking paranoid. Shane would need to be way more careful than he’d been so far, or Ryan was going to smash a shovel into the back of his head. He didn’t care much for that, the first time around-

-Ryan loved him, and wouldn’t do that-

-Then again, he’d thought she loved him too and apparently that wasn’t the case.

He sighed, and reached up into Ryan’s cupboards to pull out two mugs. It couldn’t be helped. He would need a little more on his side and the ritual took time, intricate steps. Which meant there was no better time than the present to start.

He whistled an old tune to himself as he pulled a small pillbox out of his jacket pocket, dumping its contents out on the counter. Pink and lavender blossoms scattered on the polished granite. 

He smashed them with his thumb until they crumbled into powder- they were dry and ancient, it was easy- and then brushed them into Ryan’s teapot. He took his time choosing a tea, looking over Ryan’s collection. It was lazy and half-assed at best; some green tea, a couple brands of black-

“I’m making tea! What do you want?” He called to the living room.

“Oh. Thanks! Uh, there’s one on the counter my sister left here, that one.”

He pulled a round tin where it was half jammed behind the toaster oven to study it. Jasmine. Perfect. Floral, for flora.

Shane scooped the loose tea leaves atop the blossoms, letting it brew while the popcorn finished. And then he brought it all back to the living room with a happy hum.

He held out both mugs for Ryan, and Ryan chose one and thanked him. _Thanked him._

Shane smiled to himself, and settled back down on the couch. This time their shoulders brushed as Ryan unpaused the movie. Ryan was watching him, and Shane took an idle, long sip of his own tea. That seemed to be what Ryan was waiting for, because after that he drank his own, alternating between it and the popcorn, chattering happily with Shane.

Shane knew immediately when it was starting to work. Ryan slumped a little in his seat, eyes growing glassy.

“You feelin’ okay, Ry?” Shane asked.

Ryan nodded, slowly.

“Just...tired, I guess.” His voice was blurred around the edges, a faint slur.

“It’s not even that late!” Shane said, with a teasing smile. He patted him on the shoulder. “I’m fine, you know.” He said, firmly, tucking a knuckle under Ryan’s chin to lift it back up, make him catch his eye.

“...I don’t believe you.” Ryan said, softly.

“No? What do you believe?"

“Demon, I think…? Your smile last night scared me.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. You’re wrong though, for the record. I’m human. Or was, a long, long time ago. You know how long it took me to crawl and scratch back to consciousness again? Death is _excruciatingly_ frustrating. And then just stuck waiting for something, him, Shane, to enter that goddamn cavern so I could use him. I was so bored, Ryan- you should know that ghosts are terrible company.”

“Ghosts…?”

“My followers. They’re still back there- I should probably do something about that. I did promise them.” Shane tapped on his lip thoughtfully, before clapping his hands on his thighs to stand.

“Well! It’s late, and my work here is done. Have fun sleeping tonight, Ryan. The ritual, it’s...unnerving, but necessary. Just remember that everything you see tonight is just in your head. Mostly. You’ll be fine.”

He patted Ryan on the shoulder, who looked at him vaguely. “My head...?”

“Yup.” Shane leaned forward and brushed his lips against Ryan’s forehead, before straightening to gather his things.

“Sweet dreams, Bergara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I POSTED THIS CHAPTER AND THEY ANNOUNCED A NEW SEASON. I'M MAGIC, GUYS. Also, I'm flipping out over on twitter, where I have no BFU friends that care. Please come follow me and we can be friends and vibrate in excitement together: [@camillabluejay](https://twitter.com/camillabluejay)


	6. Ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's having a no good, very bad day.

Ryan blinked in slow motion, staring at his living room ceiling for nearly a full minute as the world swam back into focus in fits and starts. He’d fallen asleep…? The TV was still on, the blank screen throwing blue light over his features. He sat up, his hoodie sliding off- it’d been lain over him like a blanket.

He fumbled for his cellphone; was it really 3am already? A message blinked on the screen. Shane.

__

12:42 am  
Showed myself out. You fell asleep. Gotta remember to take care of yourself too.

Ryan sighed and stood, rubbing at his eyes. Shane wasn’t wrong. It’d been a long hard couple of days, running on fumes. He hadn't realized he was that worn out, but he guessed it wasn't that surprising; he hadn’t really been sleeping. Working too hard, staying too late in the office- worrying about Shane. 

But Shane had seemed better tonight, right? He’d agreed to the exorcism, anyway. That said a lot. Ryan almost felt silly putting him through that, but… not silly enough not to do it. He’d email Father Thomas tomorrow for advice.

Shane'd put up with the exorcism, and after that, everything could go back to normal. Hanging out with Shane tonight made him realize that he missed Shane’s grin, the way he lit up when he was about to say something stupid. Their banter was the same, Ryan knew that; Shane had a witty retort to all Ryan’s jokes, dissolving them both into dumb giggles. 

It was Shane’s smile that just wasn’t the same. There was obviously something distracting him. And maybe no one else was seeing it, but Ryan could.

He went upstairs to his room, trudging slowly up each step. He still felt sleepy, oddly withdrawn. 

He'd accidentally spent the night after the party- last night? It felt like a week ago- searching through everything he could find on demon possession, until it was nearly dawn. It all... sounded like Shane. He’d prepped his entire apartment. Salt lining the doors, sage burning in the air, purifying the rooms as well as he was able. 

Shane hadn't even blinked. He'd walked right on through, with a sardonic smile the whole time. 

Ryan pursed his lips as he stepped into his bedroom. It was so cold- had he left the window open? He went through to his bathroom and got ready for bed, showering quickly, brushing his teeth and drying off. He had work early tomorrow. Too early, his heavy eyes and limbs reminded him. 

As he rinsed his toothbrush, he smiled at the mirror; Shane had drawn another ghost there. Although... this was his master bathroom. Shane had used the guest bath downstairs. When had he had time to do it? It wasn’t there yesterday. Weird that he would come up here while Ryan was sleeping on the couch...

‘Boo’ was written underneath in familiar, blocky letters.

Ryan leaned in to study it, just in time to see something move behind him in the reflection of the mirror. He jumped, toothbrush ricocheting off the shower wall with a loud clatter- he hadn’t even noticed throwing it. 

There was nothing there.

He took a deep, ragged breath. Fuck. He was going insane, wasn’t he? They both were. Maybe there was...mold or something in that mine. They should get checked out. Shane liked those mold theories.

He went to retrieve his toothbrush, sad and abandoned at the bottom on his shower. The pipes in the walls rattled, and he jumped. Fuck, why did he live alone?? He snatched the toothbrush in a quick dart. He was imagining things. That was all. It’d been a weird couple of days, and he was just….tired.

His shower made another juddering noise and started to back up, brackish water rushing up from the drains, filling the tub, soaking through his socks before he could move. He made a noise of disgust, hopping out. Aw hell, was his shower broken?

The water shifted, starting to swell up before rocking back and forth unnaturally in his tub. The pool shuddered, and the water vibrated in ripples that echoed with the voice he heard next.

“Drown for your god. Burn for your god. Drown or burn. Drown. Or. Burn.”

Ryan wasn’t listening. He was already running out of the bathroom, screaming. Nope, nope, hell no. He knew better than to stick around for whatever the fuck that was.  
‘Nope! Not gonna get me, motherfuckers!”

No point not engaging with them- they were fucking here.

He ran straight for the bedroom door, snatching the holy water bottle by his bed on the way- the gun was still downstairs- stupid, stupid- and yanked on the doorknob.

It held fast. He knew it wasn’t locked.

“Fuck, fuck, Jesus fuckin’ Christ, lemme out-!” He said, voice cracking a panicked high as he struggled with the knob. 

Over his shoulder, he could see the water approaching, now a lumbering, dripping form of black ink. It made its way across his bedroom, leaving wet stains like footprints in its wake.

“Drown. Drown. Drown.” It echoed, as slow and steady as a mantra. 

Other voices started to chime in, coming from the walls. He kicked at the doorknob once, trying to see if he could break the whole thing off. Around him, the walls were melting. Fucking melting- with black things dripping from the ceiling.

He spun to face the wavery creature when he finally gave up on the idea of the door opening. It waited. Ryan could almost see it studying him, hunched between the bathroom and Ryan’s bed. 

Ryan had a bedroom window, but it was small and long, up near the ceiling. He wouldn’t easily fit through it, and anyway, the Thing was between him and it.

He unscrewed the cap to his water bottle. He felt absolutely stupid brandishing it like a weapon, but that didn’t stop him, holding it tightly.

“There’s holy water in here. Don’t...take a step closer, demon.”

The demon or whatever it was cocked its head. It walked forward in a wet slosh.

Ryan threw out his arm to splash it with the holy water. It screamed and steamed and disappeared in a wet splat that stained his carpet. 

He was alone.

He breathed out with a heavy shudder, looking at the bottle in his hand. It worked. Unlike with Shane, it had worked. Was he hallucinating? Maybe he was still downstairs, asleep on his couch. He pinched his arm hard, and yelped at the little burst of pain. Nope, that wasn’t right. He’d always heard you couldn’t feel pain in dreams.

The room was empty now, but the crawl down his spine wasn’t dissipating, making him feel dizzy. His own bedroom. There was something fundamentally unfair about that.

He tried the doorknob again. Still locked.

His cellphone was on his bed, he thought. Maybe there was someone he could call. 911? He snorted at the thought. Maybe he could lie, make up something.

He looked around the room, spotting the corner of his cellphone on the comforter. The room was quiet for now, but he still didn’t trust it. He took quick, darting steps, reflexively taking that last hop to avoid the shadows under the bed.

Something snapped around his ankle and he hit the ground hard, chin clipping the edge of his bedframe on the way down. He heard the sound in his skull, stars exploding and leaving him stunned, face-down on the carpet where he landed. 

Something made a noise under his bed. Vision blurring, he turned his head to look that way with a low moan. He could see his humidifier by the edge of the bed, a discarded pair of jeans and socks he hadn’t picked up for laundry day yet. And past that, deep in the shadows under his bed, something wriggling. 

He screamed. Running on sheer reflex he hopped to his feet and onto his bed so fast he could swear the comforter fluttered airborne around him for a minute. He smacked the sheets in a wild frenzy, searching for his phone. He knew it was here, come on come on, come on-

When he found it, he made a gleeful shrill noise in his throat that was probably embarrassing, but he didn’t care. Maybe he’d made enough noise that his neighbors had already called 911, and firemen would be busting down his door with an axe any minute now. They could even arrest him, he wouldn’t fuckin’ care at this point.

His phone didn’t work. The screen was black, ink dripping from the buttons. It was sticky and way too hot and he made a noise of disgust, dropping it and wiping his fingers on the comforter as they started to burn a little.  
.  
Something made a noise to his left, wavering up from the floor, and he splashed it with holy water immediately, listening to its howls as it melted away. The holy water was both a blessing and ...something else. If it worked, it worked, and that was amazing. But if it was working, then that meant there was definitely something in his room that it worked on.

Several somethings, he realized abruptly.

“Drown. Drown. Drown…” They echoed together. His floor rippled as they rose up, one at a time.. He could feel his bed frame shaking under him and he darted to his feet, slipping on his comforter before catching his balance. He was going to die in here, die in his own fucking bed and not the way he’d always hoped, old and well-loved and surrounded by family and friends-

Something grabbed his wrist, black and spindly, and he screamed. He could smell mildew in the air, like that time he’d left clothes in the washer before he left on a shoot for a week. He’d thrown them out.

He looked down when something shivered under his feet, snaking under the comforter. He shrieked and tried to hop off the bed, but it darted up to wrap around all four limbs, throwing him forcibly back down on the bed. It was his own fuckin’ sheets, dragging around his ankles and wrists to pull him prostrate. He was face down on the bed, huffing panicked breaths against his bedsheets, struggling as his own traitorous blankets tightened their clutch on him.

The makeshift restraints forcibly spread his limbs with a hard yank, and images of people drawn and quartered flared through his mind- he abruptly regretted researching that so thoroughly for the London episodes. His heel kicked at the bedpost as the corner of his comforter slid along his bare back; he was wearing nothing but sweatpants, same as how he usually slept.

The shadow creatures were growing bigger around him, so many of them, at least what he could see craning over his shoulder. They stared at him eyelessly, and one of them stepped forward. 

“Yield,” it said, voice scratchy from disuse. 

“Join us. Belong to him.”

It leaned forward and laid a hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades. Ryan yelped as it started to burn.

“This is his mark. Agree to let him in.”

“Lemme go lemme go, lemme-” he rattled off, yanking at his bonds. “I won’t- I’m not- oh fuck-” He was babbling, he knew it.

The sheets yanked and he slid right off the bed to slam onto the floor. The things were above him. The leader leaned down to peer at him; this one was distinctly man-shaped, long and slender.

“Yield. Or drown.”

“I don’t want to do either of those things!” He still had the water bottle clutched in his hand and he tried to splash the best he could with restrained wrists. He got himself in the face, but it was at least enough to make the creature take a step back- but even better, it soaked through his sheets, their grip momentarily loosening. He ripped free, and the creatures stared at him owlishly. 

He had maybe a third of the bottle left, and there were at least a dozen of them. Thirteen. Of course there'd be thirteen. All around him, in a circle. He almost aimed for the biggest one, figuring at least he'd go down with a fight, but then his eyes focused on something better.

Ryan dove forward, fingers scrabbling for his humidifier. This was the dumbest idea in the whole fuckin’ world-

He dumped the last contents of the bottle into the humidifier tank and flicked it on high. A sheet caught around his ankle, trying to drag him back into the middle of the room, and he wrapped an arm around the humidifier to hold it close, dragging it with him.

Mist sprayed up into his face, clinging to his eyelashes in little teardrops that clouded his vision, so he closed his eyes tight. Fingers scraped along his collarbone as he was dragged closer to the creatures collecting him in.

“Drown….” They hissed.

His fingers clutched at the smooth plastic. There was nowhere to go. There was no one who could help him. His forehead clunked against the plastic as he drew his knees up, whispering to himself. Begging, pleading, praying. 

It took him a moment to realize that the world had gone quiet.

He opened one eye, suspiciously. The room... looked empty.

He opened his other eye.

It was empty. He was sitting on the ground in a disheveled lump of his blankets. The bedroom lights were on, warm and steady. His humidifier chugged along serenely in his arms, pumping out sanctified mist.

He laughed, once, hollow and disbelieving. This was a trick. They were just waiting for him to let his guard down.But he wasn’t fucking doing that, hell no.

He grabbed for his sticky cellphone and scooted towards the door, taking the humidifier with him. It was still locked. Definitely not alone. 

Well. His fucking humidifier would last for the night, so this was a standstill.

Ryan sunk down by the door frame, one hand on the knob and his back pressed firmly against the wall.

“You can’t get me, so you might as well let me go.” He said. He wanted it to sound snarky but it just sounded drawn, even to his own ears. 

No one answered.

“Yup. Just lemme go. You are at a standstill and I won, yes I did.”

Silence.

He tried the doorknob again. Locked.

And he waited.

And waited.

Ryan started to nod off a little, eventually- he’d lost track of the time without his phone. He only startled awake when his hand slipped from the knob, slapping onto his own thigh. The light outside of the window was a steely gray. Dawn. 

He tried the doorknob again, and his eyes watered when he found it was free to turn, the door slipping open without fanfare.

“Oh Jesus Christ thank you-”

Ryan scrambled to his feet and fairly flew through the house to make his way outside, pausing only to grab his book bag and sneakers near the door, yesterday’s hoodie snagged along the way.

He spent the morning in the coffee shop near his house, the first one through the door as soon as the open sign lit up. He sat in the corner and knew he looked crazy with the circles under his eyes and his wild hair, still in his pajamas.

He called Father Thomas and got his voicemail. He emailed all the others he could find. He spent the morning trying to find out more on the mine. Researching exorcisms. He could memorize Latin. Why not? Had to, right?

He should have been at work for an hour by the time he finally gave up. Work had showers, he had spare clothes in his locker, and he desperately needed both. Tonight he’d check in a hotel, or stay with a friend. 

He had to figure this out. And not just for Shane, apparently. 

Until then? He wasn’t going back in that house. The goddamn ghosts could have it.


	7. Banter

The summer sun beats down on them both, sweat prickling at their temples. She’s done looking at him, watching instead the slim sliver of her shadow with a vicious frown.

“You are not what I married,” she says.

“Sure I am. Just what do you think is different?”

He gives her a warm smile he thinks she’ll find comforting. It doesn’t quite work, not this time. She shifts from foot to foot, her worn boots kicking up the dust.

“Maybe you’re right then,” she says. “Maybe I was mistaken with whom I married.”

“That seems more credible,” he agrees, amused. “But you love me anyway, don’t you? Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

“...What did you do with the others? They never came back out. Their families, they’re worried.”

There was no time like the present. She would find out soon enough, anyway.

“They have every right to be. I murdered them. I was weak, but they were weaker still. I fed them to our god one by one and in return I have been blessed.”

His words are confident, but his gaze darts around. They’ve been spending too much time out in the sunlight, where prying ears could linger. He reaches out to take her wrist.

“Come with me.” He says again, “I know you are not a believer, but the things I can show you… I want you at my side.”

He pulls and she follows him into the mine, her steps slow and timid. She’ll follow, he know she will. She’s always been loyal. They step through the smoke, the ashes stinging at their eyes and billowing hard enough to make the chains around them shiver.

Further, the smell of burning flesh makes her recoil, but he just holds her wrist tighter, pulling her through the muddy paths of the mine.  
He loosens his grip just a little when she complains about the pain. Fragile thing.

They make it a few yards in when she suddenly pulls away, ripping her wrist from his grip. He starts to turn, but the movement’s aborted when something cold and steel slams into the back of his head. A shovel; he can see it in her hands as he topples to the ground, dirty water soaking through his clothes as he turns his gaze blearily up at her. She stands, resolute.

“I already saw what’s in there. I ain’t going back in again. You can, if that’s where you belong now. But don’t you come back out again.” Her fingers tighten on the handle. He can see his own blood glimmering on the edge. His vision swims in and out of focus.

“Y-you bitch, could’ve have killed me.” He says instead.

She snorts. “Planned on it. You killed a lot more. I’ve heard the whispers of your little- it’s a cult, that’s what it is, don’t lie to me.”

“Not a cult-”

“-I said don’t lie. You were planning on murderin’ me in there. With all the others.”

He ties to get back to his feet, but she grips the shovel tighter and points it at him like a sword, blunt edge of the metal against his throat.

“Don’t move.”

He grins. He can taste the blood on his teeth as it rolls down his face. It blinds him; he can’t see her very well anymore.

“I was, I- I was going to feed you to the god of the mountain, and in return-”

“-Don’t want to hear about it. Go then. Back into the mountain.”

She takes a step back, towards the bright light of the entryway. He barely notices.

He leaves her then, turning back to the warm heart of the mountain, where he can feel its pulsing veins around him like a loving embrace. He has to crawl, on his hands and knees, he’s much too dizzy to lift his head. He can see his own blood splattering on the stone, running down the back of his neck- it tickles at the hollow of his ear. It’s too much, he needs to bandage it.

He falls when the heel of his hand catches on Henry’s corpse, still smoking. His vision spots, and he feels like he’s losing moments in time, his crawling steps like a zoetrope with missing pictures. He was not going willingly into the water like some of the others had, but it seems he’d been given to the god either way.

He crawls to the pool of water in front of his altar, and stares at it for a long, long time, head bowing, vision blackening. The water is still, glimmering, hungry.

“I give myself to the god of the mountain.” He finally says, and it’s defeat. He lets himself slip into the water, sink deep.

//I’ve given so much. Give me something in return, I beg of you,// he whispers to the darkness, underwater thick on his tongue. Hands come up from the darkness, curl around his limbs and he lets them, closing his eyes. They drag him down.

 

________

Shane woke to pain at the back of his head and water in his lungs. He sat up with a dragging ragged breath, tapping his fingers gingerly against the back of his head. It felt sticky and wet, but when he drew his fingers away to examine them they were dry, no blood, no nothing.

He tried to force down the quell of nausea in his stomach, a shudder rolling through his frame before he forced himself to still. Steven huffed a little in his sleep, curling closer, and Shane let him, snugging back down in between the two boys asleep with him- Steven and Zack, this time. They’d fallen asleep together in the office, in the prop bed leftover from a Ladylike shoot. Just sleeping; Shane was worn out and strained. Building the altar had taken a lot out of him this time-perhaps because he was so far from his host powers. It was small, but it would grow.

He squeezed his eyes tight, letting his forehead press against Zack’s collarbone. Just to breathe for a moment, collect his thoughts. His heartbeat and human scent was comforting, even if unfamiliar. Zack wore cologne, faded around the edges from the night’s sleep, and that further reminded him he wasn’t Ryan; Ryan just smelled like...Ryan, or maybe his bodywash, or deodorant? Shane didn’t know. He’d never thought about it so deeply, not until now.

He sighed. It would be hard to regain Ryan’s trust. But he missed him. Wanted him here with an ache that wasn’t even remotely familiar to either of his sides.

“Awake.” He said softly, running his hand down Steven’s arm. Steven jolted awake, as did Zack. They sit up, both looking up at awe at the altar, scattered with its trinkets and what was just above it. A small tear of black roiling, half in the wall and half out, hanging in the air like a rat’s nest of glittering thread.

“It grew so fast overnight.” Zack whispered. He eyed the markings they’d left in their own blood on the wall around the tear. It’d grown large enough it was already eating away at one of them.

“It will grow faster still.” Shane said. He stood. He reached for his cellphone, tapping out a quick message to Ryan.

//You at work yet?//

Ryan doesn’t respond immediately, and Shane hoped for a moment that maybe he wasn’t. That he wouldn’t be here for what happened next.

And then he had a worse thought- what if Ryan hadn’t lived through the ritual? It wasn’t supposed to kill him, but Ryan was Ryan and if there was anyone who could die of fright, it would be his partner, the one who nearly fainted whenever his flashlight went out.

He was deliberating calling him, just to hear his voice and make sure, when his phone chimed.

Ryan:  
//Running late.//

Shane breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive, and he wasn’t at work yet- maybe he wouldn’t make it in time, maybe he would get locked out, and Shane wouldn’t have to keep torturing him. ...But then he’d miss him.

//Ok, but hurry. Katie’s looking for you.//

Shane looked over, past the two blank-eyed boys awaiting orders patiently to the tear above their heads. It spilled black gleaming threads, vibrating patiently.

Yes, hurry.

___________

 

Ryan stared down at his phone with a pursed frown.

Shane:  
//Ok, but hurry. Katie’s looking for you.//

Shane had a point. He’d almost forgotten about the Crestmourn edits. They were due first thing tomorrow, and he already knew there just wasn’t enough there to show Katie. It wouldn’t be possible to make an episode from it. She’d understand, but he would have to think of an alternative.

He trudged through doors, swiping his badge, and making his way to his desk. There was something odd in the air, and he couldn’t place what. Too quiet, maybe? Yes, that was it. Everyone was dutifully working, hunched over their desks. There wasn’t a single person goofing off, or chatting. And at least a dozen desks were empty. Eugene pulled off his headphones to give him a wave, “Good morning!”

Eugene never did that.

Ryan blinked at him. “...Good morning?”

“I think they’re all still hungover?” Eugene said. “Look at this-” He waved his hand in front of Keith’s face. Keith blinked once, twice, before shaking his head, “Stop, Eugene. I’m trying to work.” Eugene poked him in the nose, but then let him be.

“Zombies. Buzzfeed zombies. What the hell is going on? Did I miss a memo?”

Ryan laughed once, but it was hollow. The party was two days ago, why would they all be so….out of it still? Eugene seemed like he was alright.

And when Andrew slammed down both of his hands on Ryan’s desk, he seemed pretty spritely as well. Ryan startled, staring at him.

“Sorry. You looked like the rest, and I wanted to make sure I got your attention. You seen Steven? I know he’s here, I saw him this morning, but his desk’s been empty since.”

“Why would I know where Steven is?” Ryan said. He was tired and he was sure it sounded snappier than he meant it, but Andrew just shrugged.

“I think he’s with Shane.”

“Why would I know where Shane is?”

“You usually do.”

Well. He couldn’t disagree with that, actually. He was saved by having to respond by Shane himself, strolling into the office.

Ryan’s shoulders stiffened. In the bright sunlight, he could maybe see where things weren’t quite right around the edges. Shane had red circles under his eyes, skin wan. But his smile was big as he came over to give Ryan a friendly smack on the shoulder.

“Good morning! Sleep well?” He grinned. Ryan shot him a dirty look, his chair rattling as he jerked away from the other man. That seemed like a very pointed joke, and Ryan didn’t appreciate it. Somewhere inside he was hoping Shane didn’t have anything to do with… everything that had happened last night. But of course he did.

Andrew’s brows creased. He interrupted, “Shane. Steven with you?”

“Yeah, he’s helping me with a project.”

Shane reached out to take Ryan’s arm. “Hey, I want to talk with you. Alone. The kitchen?” He pulled and Ryan resisted.

“What about?”

Shane gave him a dark, withering look. “You know what about.” He poked him right between the shoulderblades- right where the water/demon/thing had pinned Ryan down last night and marked him, and pain flared straight up Ryan’s spine. He hissed, slapping his hand- how did he know exactly where the marks were?

Andrew looked between them, narrowing his eyes. He sighed and pulled out his cellphone, striding off. It was okay, Ryan figured; he probably couldn’t help, anyway.

Ryan stood and let Shane lead him. It was just to the kitchen. Everything would be fine. Shane laid a hand lightly on the back of his neck, and it felt weirdly possessive. Ryan didn’t like it, shoulders going up in surprise, but Shane ignored his discomfort. They strode down the hall in silence, only interrupted once along their way by their producer Katie herself.

‘Ryan! How’re the Crestmourn edits going? Due tomorrow, you know!” She gave him a bright- too bright- smile.

Shane interrupted before he could answer. “We’re planning on heading back down there, aren't we, Ryan? We need a few more things. But it’s not a wash like we’d feared. It’ll be finished. Soon.”

“Excellent! That’s what I like to hear.” Katie gave them fingerguns and ducked back into her office.

Ryan gave Shane a look, “I am not going back there- and why would you want to? No, no, Shane, we’re figuring something else out.”

Shane let go of him once they’d made it to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“You might change your mind. I’m just saying I’d be open to it, if you were.”

“Why are we even talking about this? We have other things-”

“Like what happened last night? Yeah, sorry about that. It’s okay, Ryan. I didn’t poison you. I’m not sure I could hurt you even if I wanted to. My- Shane’s feelings are too mixed up in here. This is just...the first part of the ritual. A drug, that lifts the veil from your eyes. So you can see what I see.”

Shane gave an easy shrug, sipping his coffee as if the words that had come out of his mouth weren’t fucking insane. Ryan stared at him.

“I don’t understand, I thought we were… that you wanted to stop this.” Shane had done things to him, drugged him- Shane. “You were fighting it.”

“That’s not really the right term. We’re the same person, him and I. I can’t fight anything- it’s ...me. Sort of? That part, admittedly, gets more confusing everyday.”

Shane paused, clutching his coffee cup, thumbing the sides of it as he tried to collect his thoughts. Ryan let him.

“I’d say like… 30 percent of my thoughts are ones I recognize?” Shane said, finally, tapping his lower lip idly. “I care about you still, my job, my parents... but I also seem to be caring about a lot of other things I never used to care about.”

“...Like what?” Ryan asked, softly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and by the dead-eyed stare Shane gave him, he figured he was right.

“I just...thought we were pretty even, but I don’t think that’s accurate. I think he’s...stronger? Or, getting there.”

Ryan’s eyes widened a little. Shane wasn’t denying anything. A sober, reflective Shane was admitting. In the Buzzfeed kitchen. That he was possessed.

Ryan swallowed roughly.

“Shane, I-”

Shane interrupted him by stepping forward, and his expression was so wan, so broken that it surprised Ryan enough to still entirely. Shane took Ryan’s hands in his own, lifting them to lay them against his own chest, squeezing them gently. Ryan could feel Shane’s heartbeat rabbiting wildly under his fingertips.

“Don’t fight this, okay? Everything that happens next. You won’t die. I’ll protect you. Just...stick close. You already have my mark.” His back stung in reminder at his words, like it was heating up.

“Just agree to be mine.”

Ryan shook his head wildly- those weren’t Shane’s words. He wasn’t talking to his friend, not anymore.

“You’ve gotta fight this, Shane. Give me something I can use to help you. A name, something, anything about what’s inside you, what it wants-”

“-He.” Shane paused, obviously deliberating. Ryan laid a hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to firmly look Shane in the eye. Urging him on. Fight him, Shane.

“His name is Everett. Everett Almstead.”

“Oh, so- not a-?”

“-Demon? No, I told you that. A name’s not going to help you, though-- you know that, right?”

“Maybe not, but I have to try. I…” Ryan paused before he could finish saying it. His throat felt rough. He missed him. Shane was standing right there in front of him, but he missed him.

Shane seemed to understand, and after a moment of silence he lifted his arms around Ryan’s shoulders to draw him in, and Ryan let him. He squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment. Shane said he wasn’t going to kill him, and he needed to believe that. Just for that moment.

“So here’s what we’re going to do, Ryan,” Shane whispered softly in his ear. Goosebumps prickled his forearms.

“I care for you very much, and you still have time to get out of here. Turn, and never look back.”

Ryan stiffened in Shane’s arms. Time? Until...what? “Get out of here- like... out of the building? What’s going to happen? And what about everyone else?”

“Them? They’re useless, under the call. Mindless servants waiting for my orders. It’s too late for you to help them.”

Shane smiled and it wasn’t a familiar smile, just a little too lopsided, one side higher than the other. Ryan tried to take a step back but Shane held on, hands tightening on his shoulders.

“Those thoughts I’ve been having? I’m a prophet now, I think. Words from god and all that jazz.” He laughed, a sharp, low-cutting jab.

He let go of Ryan to clap his hands and Ryan startled, jumping back.

“The good news is, you can live if you repent now. Bow at my altar, be one of my followers- acolytes? Whatever term you’d like, I don’t fuckin’ care.”

Ryan went ice-cold. This was insane. A practical joke- an elaborate one from all of them, there were probably cameras set up here, had to be-

“So that’s why Steven’s been following you around?” Was what he asked instead. Logic now, breakdown later. Get all the information he could.

Oh no, Ryan,” Shane’s patronizing voice was almost familiar, stinging somewhere deep, “No, Steven’s under the call too. He wouldn’t have agreed to all of this. I need permission, if you’re going to be my acolyte. And since I already took their choice away, their permission is meaningless. There are rules to this, Ryan. You of all people oughtta know that.”

Ryan lifted his hands to push the heels of his palms against his eyes, hard enough to see spots for a moment. None of that made sense-- how was he supposed to untangle it fast enough to do anything?

Shane took his moment of silence and ran with it, smiling wide.

“But consent, it’s a funny thing. I think you’ll willingly agree, eventually. You know how cults work, Ryan? It’s all about willpower. Breaking people down, rebuilding them. Leave them sleep-deprived. Hungry. Weak. Confused. If you’re exhausted, you’re much more likely to let me do what I want. And when was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”

His smile wasn’t kind, and Ryan didn’t like it. Shane winked at him.

“Still got time to run.”

They were interrupted by a nervous cough behind them. Ryan took a step back away from Shane quickly- they were at work, after all, and this did look rather odd- although no more odder than all the other fucking stuff going on.

He turned to see Steven. Steven didn’t look well, either, dark circles under his eyes, arms curled over his chest as if he was comforting himself. He had a bandage messily wrapped around his forearm.

“The uh- well, you know- it’s the size you told us to watch for.”

Shane pursed his lips, looking heartbroken for a moment, before a smile began to curl on his lips.

“Thanks, Steven! You’re the best.” Shane drew Steven in for a sideways hug, a kiss on the temple, and Ryan pursed his lips at all the theatrics.

What the hell was happening? “What is what size?”

“You’ll see, Ryan. Gotta go!”

They turned to leave then, and Ryan paused. Follow him, and see what he was up to? Or use this moment away from prying eyes to figure out who the fuck Everett was?

That moment of pause made the decision for him, though. When he stepped out into the hallway, Steven and Shane were already nowhere to be seen.

“...Fuck.” Ryan said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is getting long and I'm still working on the last bit. So I thought I'd post a chp 7 right now, and then the last little bit- a chp 7.5...?- in a couple of days when I can get it finished. You'll get more soon!


	8. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> REALLY SHORT CHAPTER HERE. This was supposed to be the ending tag of chp 7, but I'm throwing it into it's own chp to make sure it gets read by the people who already read 7. It's...uhhhh...important. Things get weird from here on in, but I guess if you've been here for the ride this long, you're already buckled in. Don't worry about commenting on this chapter- Chp 7 was getting long, and I thought I could make another chp between what I had for 7 and 8, but once I wrote it I found It's kinda too short to really stand on its own. If you do want to comment on it, make sure the comment is back on chp 7 so it doesn't get deleted <3  
> (speaking of deleted, I lost someone's comment before I could reply to it- I don't know if you deleted it, or if I did, but If I accidentally did I"M SORRY. THAT WASN"T PURPOSEFUL. I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I've been trying to re-write the summery blurb for this fanfic, BUT WHAT THE HELL IS IT ABOUT? It's been REALLY HARD to figure out how to draw people into this thing. But it's more like I'm just...."weird things happen, please read?" hahaha

Shane hadn’t gone too far, though he had taken a trickier route just in case Ryan had decided to spy on him. It didn’t really matter if Ryan witnessed, but Shane kinda didn’t want him to anyway, a small bead of shame hard in his gut at the thought.

He made his way through the rows of desks, slow and steady, humming to himself to steady his nerves until he stopped at a smaller desk. It was shoved to the side by itself, up against one of the support beams; the beam was decorated with drawings and colorful printouts. One of them was a little sign that said, “Hi! I’m the Spring Intern, Mariah! Please say hi! <3 <3 <3”   
Mariah was sitting there with headphones on, dancing a little in her seat as she worked on editing some clips- for Tasty, maybe? There was food onscreen, anyway.

He gave her a warm smile, tapping on the edge of her desk to get her attention, and she startled.

“Sorry! Sorry, Mr. Madej, I was doing edits and didn’t hear you!”

“No last names here, Mariah!” He said cheerily, “You know the rules.”

“Ah- sorry. Shane. Shane, what can I do for you?” She gave him a cheery smile and he gestured her over, “Follow me! I have got a very, very important mission.”

She hopped her feet and he led her down the hallways, past the conference rooms and storage supplies, into the deepest, very middle of the building. He’d measured. There wasn’t anything all that exciting there, just an old conference room that’d been dressed up for the Ladylike shoot and then mostly forgotten. But now, there was something there. Shane had built it himself. An altar, and something else- something with black threads and silvery edges, dripping like it was wet, the edges spiderwebbing out fine as mist to curl around the walls of the room. It was huge now, the size of a person. 

He leaned against the doorframe before Mariah could see it, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her a smile. 

“You’ve been a great intern, Mariah. Doing very well, anybody told you that yet?”

She gave him a beam and started to answer, but he held up a hand.

“So, like I said, I have got a very important mission for you. Do you agree to it?”

“Is this a trap…?” She laughed, once. Ryan and Shane were pretty well known for messing with their interns.

“Might be,” he said cheerily. “Do you agree to it?”

“Fine, I’m game.”

“Good!” He reached out to trace a sigil on her forehead. Her eyes rolled up immediately, and he was pleased despite himself. Not even a struggle- he was more powerful than he used to be. Perhaps it was the time spent in exile, or maybe it was the dual energy in this skinny frame- but no matter.

“With your will in my hands, you give yourself to the heart of the mountain.” He said softly. She didn’t respond. But the sigil on her forehead began to glow. He studied it for a moment, before reaching out both hands to shove.

She stumbled backwards, right into the odd, glimmering tear. The heart. It lifted her off her feet, sneakers dangling, and began to spiderweb around her. 

Shane watched, fascinated, as it ate her alive.

She didn’t struggle at all, head dropping back as silver spiderwebs turned black, crawling through the air, swallowing the walls. Shane took a step back as the office began to disappear, the walls roiling with veins bleeding black and spiraling down the halls. Stone and blood and soul.

The heart of the mountain lived again.

“Don’t forget your prophet.” He said to the heart, laying a hand on it. It was warm, pulsating gently under his fingertips. It didn’t answer- of course, it never did.  
.............

Ryan was at his desk desperately googling exorcisms and the history of this ‘Everett Almstead’. There wasn’t much to go on, not yet- he found a death certificate, one of the men that died in the mining accident, looked like. Survived by his wife, Aurora Bell “Rory” Almstead, no children. The name still sounded familiar though, he’d seen it before. Seen it and...heard it, maybe? He tapped on his phone to look at the recording file he’d made at the motel. Shane had been saying a lot of things that night, and Ryan felt weird listening to the whole thing, like he was invading Shane’s privacy, so he hadn’t. But maybe it was time to, make a transcript, compare and contrast. At least that was his plan, until the ceiling lights flickered and went out. His computer shut down.

There were a row of windows to his left, so it wasn’t completely dark. But still- odd. 

He pulled off his headphones, looking around curiously. A few people were as confused as he was, Eugene making eye contact and shrugging. But the others, though- they stared straight ahead, and then stood, desk chairs scraping back. In unison, they stood without a word.

Ryan furrowed his brows.

He heard something coming from the conference bays, snapping to his feet as soon as he saw it, silvery blue black threads weaving from the walls. They swallowed the plain white plaster whole in a pulsating mass.

Then, en masse, his coworkers and friends walked _towards it. ___

__He gaped as they fell by the dozens, hands grasping for that roiling darkness, the threads wrapping around them and pulling them in. They didn’t seem to mind, expressions blank. Justin, Evan, Ashly, Quinta, one by one by one-_ _

__Eugene screamed- Ryan had never heard that from him before, the taller man scrambling out of his chair, running down the halls and out of sight as the threads whipped over their desks, devouring them._ _

__Ryan, though- he was distracted by the skinny, unmistakeable frame of Shane, coming down the hall, surrounded by the darkness that writhed around him._ _

__“Shane!”_ _

__“I told you to run, Ryan.” Shane said softly, and Ryan barely heard it over the gristly noises of the walls coming down around him._ _

__He ran._ _


	9. Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hahaha how great was this week's video with the ohio state penitentiary? Shane totally called this fic out. I like how last week I was complaining I couldn't come up with a summary for this fic and Shane just writes one right off the cuff. HOW DARE.  
> If I had waited on writing this, I totally would've just based it on that episode even! Everett could have been a prisoner as easily as a miner. I feel like I should rewrite the whole thing now :p  
> In other notes, another tense chapter. I'd meant to give a breather at the end of this one, but it started running long again. So this chp has also been cut in half, and next week will be the second half. Enjoy!

Ryan ran.

No thoughts this time; he was beyond the hows and whys and wherefores. Just the pounding of sneakers on tile and breath in his ears as he panted. He needed to get out, Shane had told him to get out, but he was on the third floor, too high to go through a window— elevators too slow— did they even work right now with the lights going out? He didn’t have time to find out the hard way.

He flew down the stairs, the supernatural serpentine threads (he couldn’t even begin to guess what they were) at his heels, everything even remotely familiar about his workplace rapidly disappearing, walls rippling to black and pulsing with a weird sort of life to them.

A thread darted underfoot, squishing wetly, slimy under his sneakers and Ryan caught the bannister in panic as he slid and had to catch his feet. The stairs were slowing him down and he nearly tripped on the second flight, skidding on too tight of a turn. He was gonna break his fucking neck if he wasn’t careful—

He squinted when a bright light flashed over his eyes, before realizing it was a security guard shining his flashlight up the darkened flight of stairs.

“What’s going on?” He called up sharply and Ryan flew past him without stopping.

“RUN!” He shouted, throwing open the door for the both of them. But the security guard was still looking up, his flashlight playing over the thready veins. “What the h—”  
—And then he was gone, the vines rushing over him and swallowing him whole. Ryan saw him sink into the walls, limbs blackening, arms flailing, before he slammed the door shut.

He ran across the lobby— the lights were all out here too, weak sunshine filtering through the blinds— but the vines were obviously faster than him, sweeping over the large room and already twining over the front doors. He tried anyway, flying across the room faster than he’d ever moved to grab onto the door handles and yank.  
The smallest of tendrils played along his fingers, cold and sharp against his nails. The door held fast. It was nearly all glass but as Ryan watched, the clear surface was turning smoky, opaque.

Vines wrapped around his wrists and pulled. He could feel his hand sink into the blackened mass, ice cold, his fingers numbing instantly. He screamed and yanked back, falling flat on his ass when the vines ripped. He scrambled back to his feet. There were other doors, windows—

He knew the one behind the lobby was usually left open to catch the crossbreeze and he went there next, but it was already gone. The whole hallway a black dripping mess. The floor was wet with a half inch of brackish water and with every pounding footstep he splashed, sneakers sucking wetly. 

The back entrance was gone, too. He moved back to the windows; they were big, maybe that made them weaker? He dragged one of the waiting chairs up over his head and brought it down hard as he could against the glass. Everything collided with a heavy thud that reverberated through his wrists, but it held fast, and then started to cloud over. 

Ryan could hear the hiss of the vines behind him— this was the last pristine corner of the lobby. He gave the window another blow, and then another before the veins caught up, wrapping around the chair as he brought it down one last time. He let go with a frustrated noise as the vines dragged the chair from his grip.

It was done, somehow. There was no longer anything he recognized; he was surrounded by darkness and glistening, thready vines. They were still moving, but no longer seemed to feel the need to rush wildly around him, taking their time to twine together and settle in.

Ryan backed up from the walls as they reached for him. There was nowhere else to go. He was out of ideas. The keening sound that left his throat was unrecognizable, a miserable little whimper.

He backed up to the very middle of the room, away from the pulsating walls. He was trapped. He fumbled for his cellphone— no screen dripping black this time, thank God— but blanked on who to call. Father Thomas hadn’t called him back; there were no blinking messages on screen. He tried 911 for the hell of it— if they could just get the door open, everything else could be figured out later— but every call failed.

He was alone.

He stood there for… he wasn’t even sure how long, panicked and cornered, vaguely aware that he could feel himself shaking. Eventually he got himself moving again, but he didn’t know where to go, and he wasn’t running, not anymore. His slow, plodding steps matched his spirits, lost and worn out. He was too high-strung for the adrenaline to fully give up on him, but it was worn taut and thin, suspended on high alert for too long.

He checked every window on the first floor, and even ones that were still clear in patches here and there held fast, vines reaching for him whenever he got too close. They hadn’t eaten everything, but they’d eaten enough that the few glimpses of the parking lot and freedom only taunted him. He did find a few storage closets that were almost normal. It seemed that they focused on bigger rooms— the ones with escape routes, Ryan assumed, if they were at all intelligent.

He wandered down the halls in a daze, growing numb to the horrors around him as the hours dragged. He found no other living people. Eventually, he could see the sun dipping below the silhouette of palm trees, filtering weakly through one of the half-clouded windows not completely devoured. He would be getting off work right about now. 

His adrenaline was starting to give up on him, head pounding. In one of the kitchens, he paused to scrounge for food that wasn’t buried under the walls, stealing a box of cereal and idly chewing on it as he walked. It tasted like cardboard, dry and powdery and sticking to his tongue. 

He had no idea what Shane— Everett? _(did it even really matter who at this point?)_ was up to.

Eventually, he had to stop walking. The sun had set and he could only see by whatever lights hadn’t been destroyed, weakly flickering here and there. He still hadn’t found any of his coworkers, not even Shane. Images of them standing in unison and walking to their doom flickered through his brain over and over. Shane had… murdered them. That was the word. Murdered. He couldn’t trust him, not anymore, not after…

A little heaving breath left Ryan’s throat that surprised him. It sounded like weeping. He lifted his hand to press his palm against his cheek and realized it was wet. He was a little surprised— when was the last time he’d cried? He couldn’t even remember— but now that it’d started it wasn’t going to stop, shoulders hunching in before finally sinking to the floor, burying his face in his knees.

He cried for his friends, and he cried for himself, and he cried for Shane, and he lost track of how many tears he gave to each of them, until he was worn out and there was nothing left. 

His phone said it was only 9pm, but it felt like it’d been days of walking, limbs trembling. He rubbed at his red eyes until they were dried as best they were going to get, and stood again. He needed a plan, but his brain wasn’t cooperating. His mind had squirreled away and let his body deal with this one on its own. And his body was ready for sleep.

Looking around the room, he figured it was the best he was going to get— there were two entrances, both close enough he could keep his eye on them and have an escape route if needed. Dragged a chair to the very middle of the room kept him the furthest away from the roiling walls he could manage. One of the walls was mostly normal, plaster cracked, but almost the way he remembered it— but he didn’t trust it to stay that way.

He fell heavily into the chair, drew his legs up and curled into a little ball, his cheek smushed up against the back. He used his hoodie like a blanket— it was weirdly chilly in here, even though he couldn’t hear the AC anymore. 

He thought he would sit there the rest of the night— sleeping would be unwise, but relaxing for a moment would be helpful— and he did stay awake, for a long time. He wasn’t sure when the line blended between awake and asleep. First he was awake, exhaustedly watching the walls roil, and then he remembered nothing else until something jolted him from his slumber.

It was a familiar, chiming tone. He startled, nearly falling out of his chair (and instantly relieved that he hadn’t— this floor was wet now too, a rippling mirror of brackish water.) His phone...? His phone was ringing! For half a moment he begged for Father Thomas, but when he drew it out of his pocket, he saw it was Shane. His heart sunk so fast it left a bitter knot in his throat.

He didn’t answer it. He didn’t know which Shane he would get, and he didn’t want to deal with whatever he wanted right now at… 2am? Did Shane even need to sleep anymore?

He clicked the hang-up button, and curled back into a ball, rubbing his palm against his breastbone for a moment, just to comfort himself.

And then he got a text.

_Shane 2:07  
Were you sleeping Ryan? Tsk tsk. We just talked about that _

Ryan’s hand clenched around his phone.

_Shane 2:08_  
_Call me back  
I want to talk to you _

How was the phone working in here when Shane wanted to call him, but not when Ryan tried to call out? Ryan didn’t think that was fucking fair. 

The phone rang again. Ryan didn’t hang up immediately, watching’s Shane’s name shine on the phone screen for a long minute.

Hitting answer, he lifted the phone to his ear.

_“Good morning!”_

Ryan didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice.

_“How you doing? It’s been a rough couple of days, I know.”_

Shane’s voice was sympathetic. He didn’t trust that either. Shane continued.

_“If you want, we’ve built a little base up on the third floor. It’s gonna be our new home for the time being. It’s pretty comfy, if I do say so myself. New video idea— ‘Buzzfeed employees make pillow fort at HQ’. Not a bad idea, right?” ___

“Or you could just let us go.” 

_“Oh, no, no. That won’t do. The god’s already taken count. It’d be… upset with me if I let anybody leave.”_

“I don’t understand.” Shane hadn’t been the religious type, not any more than he’d been the superstitious type. Ryan didn’t like this conversation. 

_“There’s a lot I can teach you. I can make you understand.”_

Ryan’s whole frame tensed up. He gripped his phone. He was so tired. 

“I don’t want to, Shane! I want you to let everyone go, let me go— I want this to stop, to end, to—!” 

_“—Sh, it’s okay—”_ Shane’s voice was soft, soothing, and Ryan was having none of it. 

“—Don’t tell me this is okay! This is not okay, this is fuckin’ insane and I need to stop this—” 

_“Well. You can, if you really wanted to.”_ Shane said, and Ryan paused, hope springing weakly in his throat. Shane continued. 

_“If you really wanted to, you can kill me. I’m just a fragile human body, after all— all limbs as you so often point out. I’m not much of a fighter.”_

Shane laughed, _“You think if I died here, my second death, I’d haunt here now, or zip back to the mine? What do all your paranormalists have to say about that? Or maybe I’d go back, and Shane’s ghost would stay. That’d be a pity, I’ve grown fond of him. It’d be fun to be afterlife buddies.”_

Ryan couldn’t figure out a response besides a frustrated noise. Shane seemed to purposefully misconstrue it. 

_“Oh, I’m mixing up the pronouns again, aren’t I? You’d probably prefer if I said, “Everett’s ghost would leave, and my ghost would stay. That better? It’s all the same to me,”_ Shane said. 

“Shane, I’m not going to kill you.” Ryan’s voice sounded small and defeated, even to him. 

_“I know. So come be by my side, Ryan. Let me share the teachings of the mountain god. I can make you a believer.”_

“Never heard of him.” Ryan said, bitter. 

_“C’mon, Ryan—”_

“—FUCK OFF, SHANE.” 

A moment of silence. 

_“You know, you can’t really run from us. I can always find you, whenever I want.”_

Ryan started to protest, but Shane spoke over him. 

_“—I can find you. I have eyes in the walls.”_

At Shane’s words, Ryan heard a chorus of low moans ripple around him, and his body shook so violently he thought he was going to fall out of his chair. In the remaining flickering light he could see the walls moving again, vines parting to release… flashes of faces, floating through the tide of darkness, human limbs reaching like drowning victims caught in a current. 

He scrambled to his feet. He could faintly hear Shane talking, the phone call still going. But he heard none of his words as heads slipped out of the walls, eyes rolling back, tongues lolling. They were coated in dull black water, and it poured down their cheekbones, splashing into the water on the ground. 

__Ryan thought maybe he screamed, but if he did he didn’t hear it beyond a dull white noise in the background._ _

__The bodies twisted their necks towards him, eyes lolling to roll his way until they all focused on him. Dozens and dozens of half-drowned bodies in the wall, staring at him._ _

__“Shane, make it stop!” Ryan was tired, he was so fucking tired-_ _

_“Okay,”_ Shane said gently, _“I already see you anyway. Go ahead and wave to me, Ryan.”_ The eyes blinked at him dully. Ryan caught a hand in his hair and pulled tight until the sting brought him back to his senses— as best he could, anyway. 

_“Come back to me Ryan.”_

“You’re insane.” 

_“That’s fine. I’ll drag you back.”_ He heard Shane’s voice grow distant, as if pulling away from his phone. 

_“Steven. He’s in the first floor open plan. Bring him to me. Oh, but bring a weapon— he’s a feisty one, and I think he might could take you.”_

__Steven’s voice was even more distant, but Ryan could still make out the words._ _

_“Yessir.”_

_“See you in a little bit, Bergara—”_ Shane said cheerfully, but Ryan hung up before he could finish. Time to go. 


	10. Friends <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think I might could win an award for weirdest BFU fic, I swear.
> 
> This chapter is longer than usual bc I really wanted to get to a certain part. Also, we'll get back to Shane soon, I promise. Just a mild deviation right now.
> 
> Thank you for all the sweet comments and kudos! You guys are the best :D

Ryan wasn’t sure of much anymore, but he was sure of one thing. 

He was not going to fight Steven.

Unfortunately he didn’t have a lot of other options he could think of.

He didn’t wait for Steven to show up. Instead, he darted through the doorway on his left- it was the quickest way to the stairs, and if Ryan could get to another floor, maybe he could lose him. 

Starting down the hallway though, he immediately regretted his decision. The walls were just narrow enough the arms reaching out on either side of him could _touch him_ , cold fingertips clutching at his jacket, a single bony digit scraping across his cheek as he ran. Their grip wasn’t strong and he could push past them easily enough as long as he kept running, footsteps pounding on glazed cement, but their brushes were like sharp ice on his bare skin.

When he finally broke free of the hall he took a grateful gasp of air, eyes darting around the room. Stairs were to...his left, or right? This wasn’t his usual floor to begin with, and nothing was recognizable anymore.

He took another breath, chose the left and started that way before he heard something, skidding to a stop and holding his breath. Footsteps. Definitely footsteps. Not that way.

He turned and ran the opposite direction, toward the conference rooms. There were emergency fire escape stairs that way he could try, and the alarm probably wasn’t going to ring if nothing else was working right, right? ...But if it did happen to go off, Steven would know exactly which way he running.

“Ryan, I heard you, come back!” 

That was Steven’s voice ringing out behind him, cheerful and lilting. It sounded just like him. That was the worst part of all this; Steven seemed almost normal, despite what he was attempting to do. 

And it was already far too late to escape. Steven already knew where he was, waving to him from across the open floor plan.

“Shane is looking for you!” Steven’s eyes widened, “Don’t you know that? You need to get to him immediately.”

“Steven, you don’t need to be doing this, man. I dunno what he’s got over you, but you need to fuckin’ snap out of it!” Ryan called back. He paced the rows of desks, scanning for an exit.

“I’m fine, Ryan, you don’t need to worry about me. You wanna slow down? I just wanna talk.”

Ryan peeked over his shoulder. Steven was close enough Ryan could see he was holding a knife- the short, dull as fuck knife from the kitchen. Ryan recognized it.

“No big deal- nbd, yanno? Shane just wants to see you. Come with me,” Steven said.

Ryan ignored him, going for the hall on his right. Steven started to follow, but then Ryan lost him when he dashed left, disappearing into… where? What doorway? What was even over there? Ryan racked his brain.

Ryan glimpsed the hallway he was looking for with a sigh of relief, pounding up the stairs. They clattered loudly and he immediately realized this wasn’t going to work- Steven would know exactly where he went.

Unless…

Ryan grinned and took a move from basically every movie he’d ever seen. He stomped in place on the stairs, letting his footsteps grow softer before slowly, quietly backing back up and into the shadows. It was dark enough to hide him. Steven would think he went upstairs, and he could lose him for a bit, just enough to figure out where to hide.

Not permanently- they were locked in here together, after all. But one step at a time.

He couldn’t back up all the way. The walls were vined, darkness shifting over his shoulder, but he scooted as close as he could get without the walls being able to drag him in. Needle-fine tendrils strained, reaching for him and licking at his cheeks. One of them curled around his earlobe, making him shudder, and he tried not to breathe at all when Steven ran into the stairwell and headed straight towards the stairs.

Ryan almost exhaled in relief, but he didn’t get a chance to. Steven bounded up three steps and then up over the rails to crash land right into him.

They slammed up against the vine wall and Ryan saw stars- he’d always thought that was a metaphor of some sort but nope, there they were, a roll of crackly fireworks behind his eyelids as he hit the floor with a grunt, Steven atop him. The vines left them alone, not interested in Steven.

Steven laughed, “Oldest trick in the book, Bergara!”

Steven’s knee was between his thighs, and when he twisted the whole of his body weight jammed his knee cap right into the muscle of Ryan’s thigh. It must have hit a nerve or tendon because his whole leg lit up, and Ryan howled.

Ryan shoved at him, hard, and Steven rolled off of him, his back slamming into the ground. Ryan was obviously stronger, but he didn’t want to hurt him- even if Steven didn’t seem to have any similar qualms in return. Steven was blank-eyed, all gritted teeth as he sat back up, withdrawing the knife.

Ryan held up his hands defensively, “Steven, you don’t know how to use that. And it’s dull as shit. Just put it down.”

Steven lunged, sneakers scraping on the cement as he tackled the other man, knife glinting. Ryan yelped and ducked to the side. He wasn’t thinking, one hand grabbing Steven’s wrist and the other slamming a fist into his face.

Steven snarled a little cry and Ryan immediately drew his fist back. It burned- one of his knuckles must have scraped against Steven’s teeth. Blood welled on Steven’s lip. Steven gingerly brushed a thumb over the cut and winced and Ryan felt like dirt. Lower than dirt. Good to know when the chips were down, Ryan could throw a punch at anyone. Could come in handy when Shane-

No, he didn't like that train of thought, and cut it short.

Ryan tried to take the knife from him next, lunging for him, and they ended up wrestling on the ground, Ryan on top, Steven kneeing him in the side until Ryan gasped and his grip loosened on the knife.

“I’m supposed to bring you alive. But I don’t really _want_ to?” Steven said thoughtfully, the sentence coming up in pitch to signify the threat behind the comment and the unsaid question.  
“I really think Shane’ll do just fine without you.”

Ryan tried to punch him once more, but all of a sudden Steven was on top again, quick and determined, steel in his dark eyes. He flipped the knife at an angle to press it against Ryan’s gut. 

“So let me go, then!” Ryan cried out, slugging Steven in the face again, but that was a mistake, Steven rocking from the blow and leaning in on the knife. The tip simply... went in.

Ryan screamed. A knife, that was a knife inside him-

Steven’s eyes widened, “Oh sorry, i didn’t mean to do that- I mean, I was planning on it, but- well you know what I mean, right?”

Ryan tried to grip the knife handle, fingers white-knuckled over Steven’s, and didn’t answer.

“Steven!”

That wasn’t Ryan, that was someone else, shouting Steven’s name. A shadow came over the two of them before something collided with a force that knocked the wind out of Ryan. He skidded across the ground gasping, but Steven was off of him, tumbling to the side.

Andrew was there. He’d jumped the two of them and knocked Steven off of Ryan, pinning him to the ground while Adam- oh thank God, there was two of them- knocked the knife out of his hand.

“Steven, what the hell is your problem? Snap out of it.” Andrew hissed, pinning Steven’s wrists to the floor and staring down at him. Steven struggled and didn’t answer.

Adam came up to peer down at Ryan, cocking his head to look him over.

“Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not fucking alright!” His voice hit a cracked pitch.

Ryan sat up, pressing his hand against the cut. It was bleeding pretty good- it was just a nick, intellectually he _knew_ that, but it was _bleeding_ , and it was his _belly_ , that’s where all his _guts_ were and they had been almost out everywhere, with the dull knife he cut _bagels_ with last week and what the fuck what the fuck what the _fuck_ -

“Sh,” Adam said softly and kneeled down in front of him. Hands cupped Ryan’s cheeks, and he opened his eyes to look up. Adam’s smile was gentle, the first nice thing he’d seen in days. He felt himself tearing up again but he refused to do that twice. He took a ragged breath, instead.

Adam helped him back to his feet with a firm, steady grip on his elbow. Ryan’s headache had come back threefold by now- he felt his vision swim for a moment, temples pounding. He wadded up his hoodie to press it hard against the seeping cut. 

He glanced over at Andrew to see him leaning over Steven, brushing a thumb over Steven’s split lip with a sharp frown. Adam led him over so they could talk.

“Steven, what the hell is happening? You need to start talking sense, right now.” Andrew said.

“...Oh. What do you want to know?” Steven blinked up at them innocently. 

Andrew furrowed his brows. “...That simple?”

“Yeah. After all, my true meaning in life is to share the word of our god.”

Andrew gaped a little, but Ryan stepped in.

“Which god?” If he could get the internet up and running, he could research, maybe find something- “Does he have another name? What does he want?”

“The God of the Mountain? I don’t know everything- that’s for the righteous to know, and I’m not pure enough yet. I’m still learning!” He smiled brightly.

Ryan, Andrew, and Adam made matching expressions of distaste.

“Well. What does this ‘God of the Mountain’ want with Shane?” Ryan asked, and Steven gave a dreamy little sigh.

“Shane is his most blessed prophet. He’s to draw non-believers like you into the fold.”

Adam and Andrew had let Ryan take the lead to begin with, but both their puzzled expressions were growing stormier. Andrew shifted his grip on Steven to look down at him. Andrew’s focus was a terrifying thing when it was aimed at one thing and one thing only, and right now it was on Steven, unwavering. 

“Steven, you need to stop. Come back with us. We can help you,” Andrew said.

Steven looked up at him with a gentle smile.

“Oh, Andrew, Andrew Andrew,” he tsk’ed, almost playfully, “No, see, I like you well enough. But I love Shane. He’s my everything.”

“... I see,” said Andrew, mild.

“And I should really be getting back now.” Steven fidgeted, giving Andrew an imploring little smile. Andrew didn’t move.

“You’re not going anywhere. If you won’t see sense…” Andrew paused, brows creasing. 

“...Hostage?” Adam said. The three of them exchanged looks. Ryan was willing to agree to that; the more people he could keep away from Shane...

Steven vehemently disagreed, judging by his squirming under Andrew, “No, no, Shane needs me. You can’t hide me from him anyway. I’m a part of all of this. I may not be in the walls, but I’m connected.” 

Steven waved a hand as best he could in Andrew’s grip, fingers wriggling. The walls gave a sickening ripple in response.

“He’ll come for me.” Steven said.

Ryan watched the walls undulate and waited for the eyes to come out, waited for Shane to find them. To send more than just a messenger- an army, this time-

“He’s right. We should let him go. Shane’ll send others.” Ryan said.

They hesitated, a quiet circle around Steven. After contemplation, Adam gave a slow nod. “We should. For now.” He lifted a hand, touching Andrew’s upper arm. “We can’t trust him, Andrew.”

“But we just got him back.” Andrew said. He wiped his palm against his jeans anxiously, watching Steven. Steven stared back with a serene smile on his lips.

“You’re welcome to come back with me. We have dinner! Shane got In-n-Out.” Steven said cheerily.

All three of them stared at him this time.

“Okay. You’re right. You’re right.” Andrew said.

He watched Steven a moment longer before slipping off of him to help him to his feet. He pulled him into a rough hug, hands catching at the back of his head, thumb brushing the back of his neck. Steven gave a soft, pleased sound, muffled against Andrew’s jacket, and returned the embrace.

When Andrew finally stepped back, Steven’s expression was soft. Warm. “I’ll convince you guys, I’m sure. We can all be together again soon.”

“Sure, bud.” Andrew said. There was something defeated about his tone.

“Tell Shane…” Ryan started, but when Steven looked at him, he lost what he was going to say. What was there left to tell him?

“... Nevermind.”

Steven looked to Ryan, then to the knife held firmly in Adam’s hand. “Shane’s going to be disappointed in me.”

“Let him. You won’t get him through us, Steven.” Adam said. His voice was soft, but there was steel there, under the surface. Ryan scooted a little closer to him. They’d spoken barely two words at work, but Adam was definitely his new favorite person right now.

Steven watched Adam, watched Andrew, and pressed his lips together.

“I’ll miss you guys. Come home soon, okay?”

And he backed up, before turning to leave, the other three watching him go without a word. Ryan side-eyed the writhing walls. 

They were still quiet. No eyes.

“We should get going too, before Shane gets curious. We need to find a room that’s not covered in this stuff.”

“There are a few rooms like that,” Adam added. He gestured and started to walk off, handing the knife to Andrew for safekeeping. Andrew tucked it in his jacket. 

“Yeah. C’mon, we know a good corner the critters haven’t got to yet.”

“Critters? You can’t be serious—I mean, you must have seen—” Ryan started.

“—I’m well aware, Ryan. We don’t need to get into specifics about what is or what isn’t in the walls.” Andrew said, sharply.

They led Ryan to the second floor prop warehouse. It was the smallest of the prop rooms, barely more than a large closet. But it was blessedly vine-free, plain plaster staring back at them. Ryan let out an exhale he didn’t realize he’d been holding, some of the tension loosening in his shoulders. He hadn’t seen the walls move once while they were darting down the shadowy hallways like rats on the run- maybe Shane didn’t know where’d they gone, somehow. Maybe.

“We’ll sleep in shifts.” Andrew said, heading to the back of the room, behind one of the shelves, gesturing to a mostly hidden nook. “We’ll see someone coming before they see us.”

Ryan came over to stand near Andrew, not quite next to him. Adam poked through the cabinets. Ryan watched curiously until Adam returned with a gingham blanket and a first aid kit.

“It’s a picnic blanket- I remembered it from some shoot. But it’ll do.” He said, and Ryan nodded vigorously. Anything would be better than before. Was already better, even.

Adam gestured him over and Ryan obeyed, standing in front of him as Adam knelt, opening the aid kit to paw through it. Ryan lifted up his shirt; it stuck a little, blood already starting to grow tacky in the fabric and he winced. Finally, he looked down to see the extent of the wound. Although it was still hard to tell, his stomach smeared and patchy with blood. Adam ripped open a rubbing alcohol wipe and looked up at him. 

“Ready?”

Ryan bit his lip and gave a single nod. This was such a fuckin’ odd position to be in; it made him antsy, standing while Adam kneeled in front of him, his fingers brushing over Ryan’s hip bone to examine the damage. But he forgot all about it when Adam pressed the alcohol soaked pad against the wound.

“Ooooh shit motherfucker goddammit-!”

“The mouth on you.” Adam commented mildly without looking up, swiping quickly to clean the area. It took two more pads to get it cleaned, and Ryan could see the cut clearly now; just beside his bellybutton, less than an inch across and not half as deep. Barely a nick, Ryan told himself.

“Shouldn’t need stitches, right?” Andrew said. He’d come over to look, peering over Adam’s shoulder. “Which is good- I don’t think we know how to do that.”

“Yeah. Should be fine.” Adam pulled out the largest bandage and pressed it over the wound- probably just hard enough for it to stick, but hard enough that Ryan gave a sharp hiss again, hand hitting Adam’s shoulder in reflex. Adam winced and Andrew leaned forward to take Ryan’s hand, freeing Adam to work.

“Don’t smack the messenger. You’re lucky he’s here; if it was just the two of us, you be doing that yourself.” Andrew said.

Ryan opened one eye. Andrew gave him a lopsided half-smile. Ryan laughed, withdrawing from Andrew’s grip- his own hand was clammy, and he felt self-conscious all the sudden.

“Done.” Adam said, tapping Ryan’s hip and standing. Ryan let his shirt fall back down; it was still spattered with blood, but it would do for now. He was too tired to dig through the closet and hope to find something else that worked.

“Soooo... this is the part where you tell us what the fuck is going on.” Andrew said in the quiet between them. 

Ryan nodded. That was fair. 

He tried to keep the explanations concise, but Andrew and Adam’s furrowed expressions kept getting tighter and tighter. Andrew did the talking for both of them when Ryan finished.

“So….demons? Ghosts?” He asked.

“Ghosts, I think.”

“And… there’s a god in there too, somewhere?”

“Maybe. Unless it’s a demon, pretending to be a god.”

“So… ghosts... worshipping a demon?”

“I dunno, man. I’m as clueless as you are, okay?” Ryan gave a strangled sigh.

They’d all settled down in their hidden corner. Ryan let his head fall back against the wall in silent frustration. His stomach growled, loud enough that they all heard it, and he gave a self-conscious snort.

“I could really go for that In-n-Out right now.”

“Too bad our phones don’t work. Could order Postmates, tell’em to shove it through the mail slot.” Andrew said and laughed, once.

“Mail slot’s gone too.” Ryan said, but it was absent-minded. He was already thinking of something else, frowning slightly. He pulled out his phone.

“You think there are any other people still… y’know, themselves here? I thought my phone wasn’t working, but maybe….” Ryan furrowed his brows, scanning through his contacts until he found Andrew- he’d texted him a party’s address once, a few months back. He hit call, and they all three lit up when Andrew’s jacket started chiming.

“We didn’t think they worked!” Andrew said, scrambling for his phone.

“I think they only work within these walls.” Ryan muttered, already at work putting together a group, “But maybe there are others- could be hiding, or I just didn’t see them…”

Andrew brightened, “Oh! And if there’s enough of us-”

“-Maybe we can stop him.” Adam pulled out his phone as well.

They compared their contacts, trying to add everyone that might be in the building, aside from the ones they already knew were on Shane’s side.

“Not Zack- Zack Evans, I mean. I saw him earlier.” Andrew said darkly.

“Zach Kornfeld might be okay though- Eugene too, I saw him running.” Ryan said.

“Oh and Nikki, here, I have her number-”

The list they compiled was dozens of people long. They knew it wasn’t everyone, but- it’d have to do. Ryan started a group chat. It was hard not to laugh at the idea, but absurd times, well- sometimes they called for absurd measures.

“Now we wait, I guess.” 

Ryan sighed. He was tired, and his cut stung something fierce under his bandage, a never-ending nag at the corner of his mind.

“It’s almost 4am,” Andrew said.

“So we should sleep.” Adam said.

Ryan didn’t want to sleep. It’d been a long, hopeless day, and the idea of finding others- and the reality that he wasn’t alone anymore- was vibrating wildly in his chest, hope hot and comforting. He was tapping his foot anxiously, jiggling his knee. It was close enough to dawn; maybe he could just wait it out, until there was sun prying through the windows again-

Andrew snorted, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Stop fidgeting and go to sleep, Ryan.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, ‘It’s fucking cold cement under my ass- and what if the eyes come here? Fuck, or Shane? Or-”

Adam interrupted him by patting his own thigh, “Lay down.”

Adam and Andrew were already shoulder to shoulder, curled up together under the blanket. Ryan was a bit off to the left. He side-eyed the offer. “Really?”

“Why not? Seems like you’ve been having a worse day for longer than us. Get some sleep, feel better in the morning. And then we can deal with Shane.”

That was more words than Adam had ever spoken to him. Ryan watched him, Adam’s dark eyes soft on his, unwavering. Ryan felt... something in the pit of his stomach, bubbles of warmth and sadness and exhaustion mixing oddly. 

“Oh, so we’re cuddling now?” he said, a graceless shot at levity.

“Why not?” Adam responded.

“Ryan, shut the fuck up and get in Adam’s lap.” Andrew said, but it was with a snort of laughter.

“This is ridiculous. No one ever finds out about this, okay?”

It was a grumble, but Ryan listened, scooting over to lay down. Adam’s thigh was warm against his cheek, and it really was better than the cement. Oddly better still was Adam laying a hand on his head to give him an absent pet, ruffling his hair. Ryan stiffened up for a moment, almost objected, but really, it... felt kind of nice.

“Ready to sleep now?” Andrew reminded him one more time, but gentler this time. 

Ryan paused. There was something he’d been wanting to talk to him about, first, but…

“... You know that’s not really Steven, right?”

“I know.”

“I know this is probably...hard for you. But he’s not….it’s not him. You know he wouldn’t have agreed to all this.”

Ryan could feel Andrew side-eyeing him.

“...You get how that’s worse, right?

Ryan frowned. “Well get him back. I promise, I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”

It was a lame declaration, incredibly unheroic, but Andrew let it slide, wriggling to get comfortable as he took first watch.

Ryan still didn’t think he was going to be able to sleep; this was all too weird. Even if Adam was warm, and the blanket was warm, and Andrew had scooted a little closer, curling over him, humming absently as he watched the wall by the door...

Adam’s hand stilled on the back of Ryan’s neck after only a few minutes, the curly-haired brunet leaning into Andrew, head on his shoulder as he slept. Ryan missed the rhythmic touch almost instantly, but it was short-lived, only moments before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I accidentally shipped Ryan/Adam, help.


	11. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Sorry this one was later than usual. I was working overtime at work, which meant long hours using my wrists, and it just hurt too bad to keep writing for long after work. I did these chapters in tiny little pieces, so I hope that doesn't show too bad <3  
> But I made it a nice long one! And I should be back on schedule after this I think?

Shane paced.

In other circumstances, he might have found all of this fascinating. The paranormal had become real, flesh and bone; it could officially be labeled a branch of science, all those ‘ologies Ryan was always spouting off- parapsychology, cryptozoology, ghostology, whatever. He wanted to learn about every part of it, but Everett _just kept getting in the way_. Everett didn’t give one fuck about the intellectual side of it, and it made it hard for Shane to concentrate.

That, and he was going through terrible nicotine withdrawals. He’d never known what those felt like until now. Now, that didn’t make sense at all, not really; withdrawals were a chemical reaction in the body, something his physical body shouldn’t be experiencing. He wasn’t a smoker.

But Everett smoked, so Shane needed a cigarette.

His pacing ended up at a row of desks, taking his time to paw through abandoned bookbags and purses. He was still unsuccessful when Steven finally returned.

Shane’s gaze flicked over him. Steven looked like a disaster, split lip and swollen cheek. Hair tousled, sweater ripped.

“The hell, Steven? Where’s Ryan? Did he whoop your ass that badly? You can’t act tough for two minutes?”

Shane knew he wasn’t being fair to Steven; he’d never spoken to him like that before. And he knew Ryan was stubborn. It was hard to get him to do anything he didn’t want to do. But Shane was tired, and Steven was just standing there, useless. Shane sighed at the hurt look on Steven’s face, going up to him to rub a thumb along his bruised cheekbone gently.

“...He really did get you good, didn’t he? I’m surprised. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Steven fidgeted, “I got him good too! The knife just wasn’t sharp enough, or it woulda gone in deeper. I-”

“-Excuse me? Deeper? ...You stabbed him?” Shane blinked and then blinked again, something tightening in his chest, dark and oily. Steven seemed to hear it in his tone- he raised his hands to placate him, laying them on Shane’s chest.

“He's okay, it was just a tiny nick, he wasn't… behaving like you wanted him to-”

“That doesn’t mean _stab_ him! I wanted him here alive!”

“…You told me to bring a weapon?” Steven’s voice slipped quieter and more uncertain with every word. Shane’s rose louder.

“I meant to threaten him with! Like a gun!”

Steven looked bewildered. “Where would I get a gun? I don't know how to use a gun!”

Shane made a frustrated noise, rubbing at his eyes. Every man had a gun, how could Steven not? How the hell else did you defend yourself, take care of this kind of bullshit? Or- fuck, he was mixing things up again. He certainly didn’t have a gun anymore either; it was probably some rusted hunk of metal somewhere in the mine by now.

He was terrible at being the bad guy. He didn't want to be the bad guy. He just wanted everyone to do what was best for them. Especially Ryan. He should be here, not flipping out in haunted hallways, hiding in the god’s periphery.

He pursed his lips.

“Help me find a fuckin’ cigarette.” He grumbled instead, “Who here smoked?”

Steven skittered forward, “Oh! I know this. Frankie keeps a pack in her desk-”

Steven pointed to a desk and Shane waved the veins away, black tendrils curling away from his fingertips until the drawers came free. He pulled out the dented, half-empty pack and pink lighter, shoulders sagging in relief. He lit up right then and there and took a long drag.

Fuck, it was awful. He took another.

He waited for it to settle his nerves, for the nicotine to sink in and make him feel good again like he remembered. Just level him out a little, so he could think. If it wasn’t going to end up helping, he was going to have to pull out the whiskey next. 

This place was fucking getting to him; he could feel the god breathing around him, veins swelling and rising in the walls. It’d unsettled him even before, when they were wrapped in stone walls- but it was somehow worse in plaster, choking at the wiring and and vestiges of modern life. Would the god be just as confused about how much the world had changed? Or had he seen the rise and fall of civilization a dozen times over already? Shane would have to ask when it awoke; he was curious.

“...Whatcha thinking?” Steven asked.

“Whether the In & Out is too cold to enjoy now.” He grumbled. He’d bought extra for Ryan and the dumb bastard wasn’t even going to bother to show.

“Probably not! I’m starving.” Steven said, before giggling softly, “It’ll be like the Worth it/Unsolved crossover no one asked for. Ghosts and burgers.”

Shane didn’t respond to that, taking a longer, deeper drag of the cigarette. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t going away. He pulled out his cellphone, just to check for messages. Again. The screen was blank. What did Ryan really think he was going to do without him? Shane knew it would take awhile to win him over, and he knew to be patient, but-

“You know, Shane, you don’t need to check your phone every ten minutes. You have me now.” Steven said, cheerfully. He scooted closer as they walked back to base, laying a hand on Shane’s arm. Shane furrowed his brow- why did insist on touching all the damn time?

“It’s not like you really even _need_ him anymore. I can take care of everything- you can count on me.” Steven looked up at him with a smile. He was short, shorter than Ryan, and had to tilt up a long way to meet Shane’s gaze.

Shane watched him back.

“He’s mine. I want him back.” Shane said.

Steven paused, considering. “...Well, he doesn’t seem like he wants to come back? You know, maybe things might’ve worked out okay if my knife had just been a little sharper. Maybe all this could be behind us now.” He raised a hand in emphasis, “You and me versus the world, baby-”

Shane shoved him. 

Towards the walls and this time the vines didn’t shy away, reaching out for Steven greedily, embracing him, twisting around his limbs and neck to drag him back. Steven didn’t even scream; he just parted wordless lips as the vines pulled him in, buried him in the walls.

That left Shane standing alone. He frowned, immediately regretted what he’d done. He hadn’t even thought, just _acted_ \- that wasn’t like him. He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out, boots scuffing angrily on the polished concrete. The cigarettes weren’t doing shit. Maybe it wasn’t the nicotine withdrawal making him feel like this- maybe this was just him, now. Everett had a temper, and Shane had no idea how to control it. It wasn’t exactly like he’d had an entire life to adapt to it. And Everett didn’t seem to fucking care who he hurt. Shane still cared, he felt it. Somewhere in there.

Because you're weak, his Everett side teased- sounding like his usual inner monologue, but louder than it used to be and with a sharper edge. He wasn’t exactly wrong. He and Ryan used to joke about how fun cowboying around in the old west would be, and that Shane would’ve been the drinkin’ n’ smoochin’ type, but he could feel the lie in that now. This century made men goddam soft. If he'd lived back when the mine was still running strong, he would’ve been dead ten times over. You needed to be tough, pull men to the bottom to scratch your way to the top. Everett knew better than he did.

So it was a good thing they weren’t back then, but Everett had to get his shit together if he was going to live in Shane’s world today. They needed as many men as they could get if they were going to control the ones who hadn’t fallen under the call. 

And that meant _not_ rage feeding them to the god in the walls.

The inky veins were rustling now as he made his way back to base- he was alone now, his followers out searching for survivors to bring back and convert. They’d already found Niki and Eugene, the two of them sitting in the makeshift cell the next room over, talking quietly. They could have Ryan and Steven’s burgers, he guessed.

Meanwhile, he appreciated the silence as he reached for his In & Out. It was soggy.

He wrinkled his nose and sat down in the oversized papasan chair that he’d claimed for himself (Everett liked that it was the closest thing to a throne, Shane thought it was comfortable.) and started to eat the burger anyway. The veins looked weirdly well fed, calmly writhing; it seemed like they liked Steven. He watched them wriggle with vague distaste and flicked out his cellphone instead. After a moment of hesitation, he typed out another message.

Shane:  
Didn’t want to come with Steven? Swear he wasn’t supposed to hurt you. You know him. Gets enthusiastic. Overdoes things.

There wasn’t an answer right away and he hissed in frustration, letting his head fall back. If the god was at full power, it could just rip Ryan through the walls and drop him at Shane’s feet. If it wanted to, anyway. Shane had no real idea what it wanted. He did hope it was along the same lines as what he wanted, though. It was almost more frustrating to have a god that you _knew_ was real, could see it in front of you, but still not know its intentions. But Shane had faith. Something he’d never really had before.

Shane had always been an atheist through and through, and Everett’s faith was a fascinating new addition. He analyzed it almost greedily- it was similar to hope, like he’d assumed, but so much… warmer. An elation that burned through his chest. The god would be reborn, and it would save them all. He knew that, just as he knew he would sit at its right hand.

God was real, because Everett had seen its face. Shane remembered its face, once, a long time before. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to a second glimpse, but he knew it had to happen, and soon.

He settled back into the chair once he was finished eating, cell phone stubbornly silent.. He almost threw it across the room but held his temper. He’d learned that lesson.

Eventually Shane fell asleep, alone, and this time he dreamed of nothing.

.....

Ryan awoke to his phone chiming again, but this time muffled in a warm pile of limbs and blankets. He flailed a little as he reached for it. Andrew was asleep atop of him, one arm flopped limply over Ryan’s shoulder, but Ryan didn’t bother to push it off as he scanned through his phone.

A text.  
From Shane.

Shane:  
Didn’t want to come with Steven? Swear he wasn’t supposed to hurt you. You know him. Gets enthusiastic. Overdoes things.

He must have slept through that one- it was from past three in the morning. What had woken him was the group chat chiming, and he nearly dropped his phone opening it in a rapid fumble.

Kelsey:  
50 fuckin ppl in this chat & no response? The hell is this Ryan?

Ryan brightened. There were others! At least one, anyway, but if there was one, there could be more. He quickly typed back.

Ryan:  
Safer to stick together. With Andrew & Adam. Tell us where to meet you- anyone with you?

Kelsey:  
Yeah, Jen. Meet us in third floor kitchens?

Ryan nearly grinned, slapping Andrew’s arm. Andrew startled but sat up, rubbing at his eyes and squinting to focus on the bright phone screen Ryan was holding in front of his face.

“What?” he grumbled. Adam watched from his look-out spot across the room, already awake.

“Kelsey and Jen! Let’s go.” Ryan scrambled to his feet. 

It took longer than it should have to get from the second floor storage to the third floor kitchens; they were being careful, watching for Shane- or eyes in the walls. All was quiet. Maybe Shane still needed to sleep, after all.

When they made it to the kitchens, they found Kelsey pacing and Jen sitting on the countertop. They looked awful, eyeliner smeared and hair wild. But their smiles were real when the boys came into the room.

“Ry!” Jen slipped off the counter and threw her arms over his shoulders. He softened, wrapping around her, pulling her in. She was safe. At least some of his friends were safe. She seemed to be reading his mind when they finally parted, her eyes a little too bright.

“What the hell is happening, Ryan? Where is everyone?”

“Yeah, why are we stuck in this B-horror bargain bin dump?” Kelsey added.

“It’s a long story.” Ryan said. A long story that he’d hopefully get to explain a few more times as they gathered more… survivors? Was that what they were? Fuck, he hoped not. Holdouts. They were just holdouts. “Where did you guys find that was safe?”

Kelsey pointed up, amused. Ryan looked to the ceiling tiles.

“Crawlspace. Chris used to keep his weed up there.” Kelsey grinned.

“Good to know.” If they could find a few hiding places on every floor, maybe they could stay one step ahead.

“It’s small though. Wouldn’t fit all of us.” Jen said softly. Ryan shook his head, “That’s okay. Our place can. Looks like you guys got food though- let’s gather as much as we can.”

“Yup. Been eating nothing but junk food for days, Ryan. Days!” Jen stared at him wild-eyed, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis.

Kelsey nodded, “Also… can’t help but feel this is sorta your fault somehow, bro? Seems like all of this has kinda supernatural bent to it. These two-” She gestured at Adam and Andrew, “were happily making videos about cheesecake WHILE YOU MADE FUN OF DEMONS.”

Ryan pursed his lips. She was right though. A small part of him was always worried about what would happen if he got too deep into ghosts and demons, but he’d never imagined it’d be this… all-encompassing.

“ We can fight later, in the comfort of our closet.” Andrew said. He went to the cupboards, piling the dried foodstuff in his arms. Adam followed suit with bottles of water, and soon it was a bustle of motion, everyone gathering everything they could think of. 

Ryan eyed the coffee pot longingly, his caffeine headache already throbbing behind his eyelids. He pressed the ‘on’ button just out of curiosity, quickly before the vines covering the countertops could scrape at him. It gurgled and he brightened, but then it spat out black water and shut down. A vine curled around it lazily, as if it were openly taunting him. He pulled a face, defeatedly snagging a few cans of coke instead with everything else.

They made it back to the storage room without incident, eating a hearty breakfast of candy and dried cereal on the picnic blanket while Ryan got the girls caught up. And then came the same problem- what next?

Kelsey was the first one to bring up what they were probably all thinking.

“So you think you _maybe_ could exorcise Shane. Maybe. When you’re not even sure what he is.” She said, flatly.

“I have exorcism rites on my phone. I’ve got them memorized by now even, I think.”

“You think. And you don’t even know everything he can do. Like, he can _brainwash_ people, why hasn’t he just done that to you?”

Kelsey and Jen looked between each other, probably thinking of the party and how strangely they’d all acted. Ryan idly wondered if they’d talked about that kiss yet, or if they’d all collectively decided to pretend that evening didn’t exist. That was what he’d like to do.

“I don’t think he wants to brainwash everyone. I think he wants to use us for something else? But if I can get a one-up on him, then-” Ryan started.

“-and then...what?” Adam interrupted softly. He was going to side with Kelsey, Ryan could see it already.

“We might have to think of… alternative solutions,” Andrew added.

Oh screw all of them, they were ganging up on him.

“You don’t think I can do it?” He puffed up his chest, shoulders squaring defensively.

“We’re not saying that, Ryan.” Jen said soothingly.

“We’re just saying, if Shane really is the one behind all this, we might be... forced to stop him.” Andrew said.

“As a last resort. If we have a weapon and an opening.” Adam said.

They were talking about killing him. Killing _Shane_. Ryan’s hand gripped into a fist.

“Forced to _stop_ him” Ryan mimicked, bitterly, “You won’t be able to do it if you can’t even say the fucking word!”

Adam laid a hand over his fist, “We’re just trying to prepare you, Ryan. Us, too. Only if it really has to come to that.”

“‘If it comes to 'that’? What if that doesn’t even do anything?” Ryan stood, “Shane says he’s still himself, but Steven was talking about a _god_. What if Shane is possessed by a god and we fuckin’ stab him? He’ll just stab us right back!”

“You saw Steven. He’s twitterpated. Probably exaggerating.” Andrew said, only a little bitter.

Ryan turned on him next, “Well, if we had to kill Steven. How would you feel about that?”

“We’re not killing Steven.” That hit a sore spot, Andrew whipping to pin his gaze on Ryan. Adam’s stare was slower, more placid, but no less steely.

“So we’ll talk about murdering Shane, but not taking out Steven with him?” Ryan didn’t think that was fair, and he was only vaguely aware of how loud he was getting.

“Steven is still himself, mostly, we can handle him- we don’t know Shane is-”

“They’re all the _‘bad guys’_ now, aren’t they? Let’s just kill ‘em all!” Ryan threw his hands up in the air.

“This is idiotic. Fuck you, Ryan.” Andrew stood, “I need to get some air. I’ll be back.”

When he left he didn’t slam the door, but the quiet click said enough.

Ryan slumped and finished off his soda. It was doing fuck-all for his miserable headache.

“He was being a little hypocritical.” Kelsey offered, leaning forward to lay a hand on Ryan’s arm. She smiled, a little weakly, “Murder equality, that’s what I always say.”

“We don’t need to talk about this right now. It’s too soon,” Jen said softly. “C’mon Kel, we should make sure Andrew doesn’t get in trouble alone. I really need to pee anyway.”

They left together without further argument. And If Adam had gone with them, Ryan could have spent a blessed moment alone, gather his wits about him. But Adam didn’t.

“The fuck is Andrew’s problem?” Ryan muttered darkly. Adam said nothing. 

Ryan scoffed, “According to big bad guy Shane, Steven and Andrew just need to hurry up and fuck already.”

Adam shrugged. “Yeah. Probably.”

Ryan choked on his last sip of coke. That was meant to be a sideways jab, and now he didn’t know what to say.

Adam and Ryan sat in silence.

“... We really do need a plan. A real one.” Ryan finally said.

Adam nodded.

“But we can’t do it without more information. We have no idea what’s going on, or how to stop it.”

Adam nodded again.

Ryan looked down at his phone. At Shane’s unanswered text.

He sighed and tapped out:

Ryan:  
It’s been a whole day. Why haven’t you hunted me down yet? Am I that good at hide and seek?

Shane:  
I want you willing :)

Goosebumps spread down Ryan’s arms, a curl of fear running strangely hot through his stomach.

The phone chimed again before he could respond, but he was interrupted by the others returning.

“Who’re you texting? More friends?” Jen said, hopping down beside him to peer over his shoulder. Ryan whipped his phone out of her view and she leaned back, brows furrowing at whatever expression she saw- he didn’t know what face he was making, but it was clear she didn’t like it.

“Shane.” He muttered finally. It wasn’t like he could hide things from Jen.

And just like that, he was bombarded again.

“What does he want?”

“Why is he texting _you_?”

“Does he know where we are?”

There were too many questions to answer, so he just looked down at his phone instead.

Shane:  
I miss you. Come visit. We can talk.

Ryan:  
We can talk like this.

“Block him, Ryan. We don’t want anything to do with him. And you can’t trust him. You have a soft spot, and he knows it.” Jen said. She laid a hand on his arm, to soften her words.

Shane:  
I don’t want to talk like this. I want to see your face. Come now.

Ryan:  
...What’s in it for me?

Ryan blocked out their slew of objections, curling in with his phone and ignoring their stares. He knew he was being stubborn. But he was also he was researching. Planning.

Not being fucking useless, for the first time in what felt like weeks.

Shane:  
Whatever you want.

Ryan:  
Answer my questions. All of them. And let me leave safely when I want.

Shane:  
Sure. I know you’ll always come back :)

Ryan stood. The rest of the group stared at him in varying degrees of disbelief.

“I’m going to get answers. Before we ever _think_ about our fuckin’ terrible plan B’s again.” He said, sharply.

“He’s not going to let you leave, Ryan.” Kelsey warned.

“He will.” And then a pause, a little less confident, “Uh, if he doesn’t, you’ll know. If I’m not back before… sundown. Then you’ll know he got me.”

He turned towards the door.

“And then you can just fucking kill us both, I guess.”

And he slammed the door after himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple weeks back I wrote a little detective AU bit, if you wanted to check it out :)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831963
> 
> [two guns, one bullet and a fuckton of cocaine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831963/)


	12. Imago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting really long and there was a lot of things going on, so I'm posting the first half this weekend, and I'll finish up the rest of it as soon as I can. :)

Shane knew Ryan was coming, but the minutes inched by in a crawl- Shane knew that he couldn’t be that far, so what was taking him this long? Shane was excited-- then antsy… and then just impatient, halfway to pacing in the small room.

The quiet click of the door opening had him shooting to his feet, before he realized it made him seem like a stupid puppy or something. So instead, he slowed himself, and gave Ryan a soft smile.

“Hiya, buddy.”

“Hi.” 

Ryan walked past him without another word, taking a long, slow look around Shane’s hideout. Shane followed after, laying a hand on his shoulder to pull him back for a hug. Ryan stiffened under his grip, and Shane let go quickly.

“So. These are my digs.” Shane joked, presenting the room with an an idle sweep with his hand. Ryan didn’t play along, looking him right in the eye.

“Where are the others? You had others. Your ‘zombies’ or whatever the fuck you call them,” Ryan said.

“They’re fine. Out wandering the halls.” Shane didn’t want them here. Not right now, with Ryan already so on edge. “We can talk about all of that later. Do you need anything? ...Food? Coffee?”

Ryan lit up, just a little. Bingo.

“I’ll put some coffee on. The showers on this floor still work- you can clean up. I’ve got a change of clothes for you, too.” Shane clapped his hands once and went to the small kitchenette he’d set up, busying himself with the rote brewing rituals of their daily java. 

Ryan watched him, brows furrowing deeper with every word.

“Wow, you just got everything all fucking figured out, don’t you?” He said.

Shane felt a tickle of rage writhe up in him, but he forcefully tamped it down.   
This was Ryan. 

He was used to Ryan. 

He liked Ryan.

“I do.” 

He smiled, and the matching emotion sluggishly followed a beat later. But it was present. He was happy to see Ryan. Everything else was Everett, he told himself, and, that was negligible right now. Had to be.

Ryan watched him for a moment before sighing. 

“Fine. Yes. A shower would be nice, ‘if’ nothing’s going to attack me while I’m stark naked.”

“No. You’re safe. Although wouldn’t it be hilarious, you streaking down the halls-” Shane snorted at the thought. “I’ve designated everyone in this building for their specific purposes. The god’s not going to take anyone without my say so. You’re safe.” 

Shane reached for a duffel bag that was laid out on a nearby shelf- a duffel bag that Ryan recognized after a moment.  
.  
“Here, you can wear these-”

“Wait, these are _my fucking clothes-_ ”

“Yeah! I picked up something from your place, just in case.”

“My place? How?”

“Well, you left your bag by your desk. Your keys. Although your door was unlocked anyway-” Shane shrugged, “Not exactly safe, Ryan. You’re lucky I was the only one taking things.”

“I left in a hurry, okay!”

Ryan’s cheeks pinked, with something between anger and embarrassment. Shane studied it curiously- or, more precisely, he studied his own reaction. He found it weirdly cute. It was a very common expression on Ryan, one he’d seen many times before, but now- there was something different. It...unsettled him. Ryan didn’t seem to notice his hesitation, however.

“And you have my whole damn bookbag, too? I want it, give it back to me.” He said, looking around as it’d just be laying around. 

Shane shrugged, “Why? Nothing important in it, now. You took your phone. Everything else was for a different life. That stuff, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Ryan opened his mouth and Shane prepared to argue. But after a pause and a flicker of an expression Shane didn’t quite recognize, Ryan just matched his shrug. “Phone’s almost useless now too, isn’t it?”

Almost useless, he said. But Ryan was hanging on. Shane had seen the group text Ryan attempted- when Zack had confiscated Eugene’s phone. It was a bad idea. Shane couldn’t have them grouping up- divide and conquer and all that jazz. They needed to rely on him, not one another.

Ryan took his duffel bag, heading to the locker rooms without another word. And Shane went downstairs to collect the pizza he’d ordered as soon as he knew Ryan was on his way.

He bumped into Zack along the way; he’d found Daysha and Garrett, good for him. He gave them all a bright smile. “You guys are safe now- I can explain everything later.”

And then he touched Zack’s arm, leaning in to whisper as he passed, “Take them to the holding room, but stay the hell out of my way for the rest of the evening.”

“Yessir.” Zack’s eyes lingered on him before he left.

Ryan obviously didn’t like seeing his friends under the call, and Shane couldn’t really blame him. Ryan wasn’t wrong; they were weird little zombies, with only bits and pieces of their former personalities shining through. They weirded him out too, if he thought about it too much. Steven had been just ‘Steven’ enough that the contrast almost made it worse, toeing right over into uncanny valley shit.

He wondered after a moment if that was how Ryan felt about him, now.

Shane was waiting when Ryan finally stepped back into the room, wet hair slicked back, already looking more relaxed in clean jeans and a familiar tee. Shane had a cup of coffee waiting, and passed it over to him. One cream, no sugar, just the way Ryan liked it.

Ryan smiled then, just a little, and Shane grinned.

“Got pizza for ya, too.”

“Pizza? Goddamn. Must be my birthday.”

That was a little bit of a mutter, as Ryan lifted the coffee mug to his lips. He paused there, giving Shane a suspicious look, “Is this one poisoned, too?”

“Poisoned? Don’t be so overdramatic. I didn’t poison you.” Shane reached for the coffee and took a long drink from it, eyes on Ryan all the while. He handed it back. 

“There. You happy now? I’ll eat the pizza with you too.”

Ryan frowned, but drank the coffee, nearly all of it in one slug. Shane flopped into his oversized round chair, and patted the cushion beside him.

“Come, sit with me.”

“That is _not_ a two person seat.”

“Sure it is.” Shane scooted sideways to illustrate, tucking his long legs out of the way with a silly grin.

Ryan took a seat on the floor front of him. Shane sighed, but he handed over the pizza box without further complaint. 

Ryan flipped over the lid and inhaled deeply, “Oh my fuckin’ god, I’m starving.”

Understandable. He hadn’t eaten in days, as far as Shane knew. But he would still be hungry afterwards; Shane had only ordered a small, and it was to share. But he’d make sure there would always be more food, as long as Ryan kept coming back to him.

Ryan reached for a slice, eyes widening at the long trail of hot, melted cheese. He took a large bite and his eyes closed, a muffled, pleased moan rumbling in his throat. His fucking eyelashes even fluttered. Shane laughed out loud and Ryan shot him a look, already taking another bite.

“What?” He said, mouth full.

“Next time, I’ll bring you Chipotle.”

That brought the biggest smile Shane had seen yet. Ryan pointed a dripping slice at him.

“With extra guac. I’ve fucking _earned_ that motherfucker.”

“With extra guac,” Shane agreed with a smile. Ryan was already agreeing to a next time.

Ryan reached for another slice, already finished with the first. Shane leaned forward to grab his own while he still could; he knew that Ryan could finish a pizza off by himself on a normal day, let alone when he doubtless hadn’t eaten real food in at least two days. Ryan ate faster than Shane to begin with, large, ravenous bites, and soon enough Shane stopped trying to keep up. He let it slide that Ryan ate almost the entire pizza by himself.

Shane watched as he finished off the last bite- even the crust. “Aren’t you just the growing boy. My, my.”

Ryan laughed. “Food coma. Carb overload.”

Ryan leant back, stretching out with a pleased sigh. His shirt drew up, Shane’s gaze flicking along the hollow of his hip- and landing on a large bandage. It was damp, and red had seeped through. 

He frowned, momentarily irritated at Steven-- and at Ryan.

"Logic says you would have listened to the man with the knife, Ryan." Shane grumbled. 

Ryan turned his head to look back up at him, following Shane’s gaze to the bandage. He jerked his shirt back down over it, brow furrowing sharply.

“Wooow, fuck you. Logic wouldn’t have Steven of all friggin people trying to skin me alive with a bagel knife.”

“He was just supposed to try to make you understand.” Shane frowned, raking a hand through his hair.

Ryan shot him a look, “We were doing so good, dude, and then you’ve gotta make it weird again- fine, this is what we’re doing. Alright then.” 

He straightened back up, and Shane swallowed a sigh that tasted like copper in his mouth. Looked like their peaceful moment had reached its bitter end. Bummer.

“So tell me what I need to know.” Ryan said.

“Oh, this isn’t just going to be a fun visit? I miss just being us, you know.”

Ryan paused. 

“So do I. This is a shitty situation, not gonna lie. But you can’t miss us when there’s no you.”

“Ouch.”

Ryan gave him a look, and Shane resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Spit it out, Ryan. I know you have questions.” He said.

“How do we stop all-- this? You can’t want this.” Ryan looked a little helpless around the edges. Shane had never quite seen that expression before, not on him.

“There’s no stopping it.” Shane said, quite simply. He didn’t respond to the rest; it was more complicated than he could ever explain.

“Okay, so what is ‘it’, then? Lay it out for me like I’m an idiot.”

Shane smiled, biting his tongue on a snarky reply- it was such a good opening. But, alas. Shane tried to give a helpful answer, instead.

“I think you know most of it, by now. A god laid sleeping in a mountain, and we awoke him, a long time ago. And now we serve him. I- well,” he gestured idly, “ _Everett_ , died serving. The god’s strength lies in his followers- we serve as his eyes and ears. More bodies, more life. That’s why we can’t let anyone go. His strength lies in our numbers.”

“Even if he murders them? What’s the point in that??”

“They’re not dead, Ryan. The god’s just... keeping ‘em. See?”

Shane waved a hand and the walls rippled, Ryan skittering closer to the middle of the room, knocking the empty pizza box open. He watched as vines roiled and the eyes came forth again, heads lolling. 

“Whoa my god!” Ryan screeched, “Don’t just do that without warning me!”

Shane laughed, “Your face is just hilarious, you know that?”

Ryan’s eyes were huge, scanning the vines wildly, obviously trying to see if he could recognize the faces. But like this, so far from the god, they were hazy and indistinct. Scratchy limbs, all black ink.

“They’re-they’re alive in there?” Ryan asked softly. Shane nodded, looking over the wall.

“His little network of souls, keeping him anchored to this plane. They make him powerful. Make me powerful.”

“How do we stop him?” Ryan didn’t tear his eyes away from the walls, even as they reached spindly fingers towards him. Was he braver, with Shane next to him? Or maybe he’d just had a change of heart, now that he knew what they were. 

“You asked that already. Look at this way, Ryan-” Shane slipped out of his chair, coming to kneel in front of Ryan, “I cheated death with just a paltry seventy-seven souls in that old western hick town. ...How many employees of this ridiculous company are there?”

Ryan lifted his head to look at him, face to face- and turned his head back to watch the walls, silent. Shane watched his profile. What was he thinking? Shane wanted to know, wanted to tear him open and peek at all the intimate details Ryan never shared. Ryan was planning something, and Shane wanted to know what. 

It was useless, either way.

“The god is here now, not in the mountain. I brought him with me, and he will wake, and he will rise.” Shane said, “Simple as that.” He laid a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

Ryan said nothing.

“It’s a good thing, I promise you Ryan. He will reward us.” Shane said. Ryan rubbed his thumb against his brows, a stressed curve to the line of his lips.

“No,” he said, “this is idiotic. You don’t even sound like yourself. Like, what the fuck, Shane?” His gaze finally turned back to Shane, and this time they were imploring. He didn’t bother to remove Shane’s hand from his shoulder. 

Shane shrugged.

“I do sound like myself, even if you don’t care much for it. I take the most logical path, and this is the most logical. We’re not going to stop him; you’re being ridiculous. I’ve seen him. I know what he’s capable of.” He held Ryan’s gaze. “I am as sane as I have ever been, Ryan, and you’ve got to trust me when I say that this? This is the best path.”

“Bullshit, Shane, I-” Ryan started, but Shane cut him off, sliding to his feet and pulling Ryan up with him with a little more force than necessary. He was tired of this, tired of endless back and forth. He needed Ryan to _understand._

“Here. You want to know what’s going on? I’ll show you.”

Shane strode out of the room. He fully expected Ryan to follow. He knew him too well; the sound of footsteps behind him confirmed it. 

He didn’t falter one step as he silently led him to a room in the very center of the building. Or what was left of a room, at least.

The tear had grown very large indeed, filling the room and breaking down the walls. Shane and Ryan were stepping right onto the wide expanse of the god’s front steps. 

The tear was roiling, veins spilling from it and breathing steadily, twisting over one another. Ryan had seen the veins, sure, but he hadn’t yet seen their source, dripping like ink and mercury, sparkling and shifting like the galaxy laid within their depths. Shane was used to the overwhelming awe and dread it inspired, but Ryan was still a little new to it all. 

And there was definitely something about the uneasy darkness that made newbies all bibbly.

Ryan tried to back up, babbling softly under his breath, a stuttered mantra of ‘no’, over and over. He shook his head and Shane reached out to take his hand, hold him steady. It seemed to help, Ryan gripping him tight. Holding on.

He didn’t scream; Shane was proud of him for that. But maybe he was just... beyond screaming, by this point. There was a sort of wearied edge to his widened eyes that Shane had never seen before. He turned to face Shane, a silent begging on his lips. 

But Shane wasn’t there to help.


	13. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t scream; Shane was proud of him for that. But maybe he was just... beyond screaming, by this point. There was a sort of wearied edge to his widened eyes that Shane had never seen before. He turned to face Shane, a silent begging on his lips.
> 
> But Shane wasn’t there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the cliffhanger last chapter! That wasn't one I planned, the last chapter and this one were supposed to go together. But I was struggling real hard with this chapter and needed some extra time. Extra special thanks to @handsliketruth for reading it over and helping me make it better.  
> Also, this is the longest chapter so far! I hope you enjoy <3 Thank you for your comments!

“No, I need to you look, Ryan.” His fingers reached out to slide along Ryan’s neck, the line of his jaw, cupping his face from behind to hold him firm.

“I need you to understand.”

Ryan was shaking under his grip.

“This is our new god now. Made of building blocks of flesh and blood. Everett didn’t understand before, but I think I do, now? Best as a mortal guy can, anyway. There’s a thousand, million dimensions. There’s bound to be a tear between two or three. And who says the tear has to be inanimate?”

And as if following his words, the tear rippled, vines parting to let bodies float to the surface, hands reaching out for them, but more this time than they had seen before. A hundred faces, a thousand eyes staring at them all clustered together in the eye of the storm. Ryan jerked, and Shane’s grip tightened.

The faces sunk back into darkness, falling back all in unison to leave just one. One small frame reaching out for them. As the liquid darkness dripped away from the face, they recognized their intern, the first of the god’s fallen.

“...Mariah?” Ryan whispered. The god with the intern’s face watched him with blank eyes.

“No. I am all.” She whispered, with something else’s voice. And then she dipped back under the surface.

The tear swelled and rippled, and started flipping through its collected faces like cards, and Shane slowly began to notice they were appearing in the order they fell. One by one, through the dozens. Ryan wasn’t breathing beside him. It slowed down to a trickle as it got to the last few, and Shane recognized each one. Quinta. Curly. Keith…

Shane winced inside. If they were appearing in the order of which they’d fallen, he knew then which face would come last.

And he was right; the last head dipped forward and Steven blinked dully at them. Still recognizable, even coated in mercury and stardust. Shane stared up at him, their positions of power reversed.

“We are his eyes, his ears, his hands. The god of the mountain is like every other creature that lives below the surface. Visionless, but sensitive in other ways.” Shane said softly, “It needs us- his veins.”

Ryan wasn’t listening to his explanation, just staring at Steven.

“Steven- he was alive, I saw him-”

“He’s not feeling any pain,” Shane said smoothly, and it was his first real lie to Ryan. He didn’t put much stock in lying; honesty was generally easier. Shane liked being blunt, and he knew Ryan appreciated that- trusted that about him, even. But judging by the struck look on Ryan’s face, he figured it was something he might have wanted to hear. 

And it wasn’t like Shane even fucking _knew_ what Steven was feeling at this point. Shane had never gotten this far before. The old town hadn’t had enough people to wake the god even this miniscule amount-- and that was before his lovely wife had killed him and burned the mine down, trapping the ghosts inside.

He’d never seen the god react like this before. It made his heart pound with something between anticipation and dread. The Buzzfeed headquarters alone had already been so much bigger than Crestmorn- but not big enough, if the god wasn’t crawling out from the walls yet.

But. There were plenty more people Shane could draw in. This was no small western town.

This was Los Angeles, and he could bring the god millions.

“You should kneel, Ryan.” Shane whispered as the tendrils dripped out of the tear, slopped onto the floor, spreading outwards to reach across the room, investigating. Ryan jerked out of his grip and took a step back.

“No, I- fuck that, I- I-”

Ryan was barely making sense, all the words fumbling out at once. Shane supposed he could sympathize. 

But right now, he needed him to listen.

“Show your reverence. He gets jealous. Angers easy. And you do not want to be the one to piss him off.” The god had never physically awakened to speak, but Shane knew him well.

Ryan wasn’t listening. Maybe Ryan couldn’t even hear him over whatever was buzzing through his head.

Especially as the god studied them further, Steven’s face almost curious as he leaned a little further out of the tear, vines twitching, holding his slender frame steady.

The smaller tendrils surrounding Steven’s face wriggled further out, drifting across the space between them, to very, very gently lick at Ryan’s cheeks. 

Ryan looked like he was going to throw up.

“Mine?” Steven’s lips said. Not with Steven’s voice, though. Shane recognized it from under the water. Funny- he had thought that had been Everett, not the god himself speaking with him. Maybe it was both? Or maybe it was neither. Maybe it didn’t fucking matter, either way.

“Oh- god no.” Ryan whispered, a low moan.

Steven’s eyes whipped Shane’s way, and he shuddered despite himself. He didn’t need to speak out loud to Shane. Shane knew he was growing unhappy- he could feel the god’s emotions, swelling in his gut.

“Kneel. He wants you to kneel.” Shane repeated, a bit more forcefully. He could feel the grating buzz of the god’s growing irritation. Shane shouldn’t have brought Ryan; he wasn’t a follower, not yet. And the god didn’t tolerate excess. Shane hadn’t just made a miscalculation- he had made a mistake.

The tendrils clutched at Ryan’s face when he tried to pull back, dripping over his shoulders to slide down the collar of his shirt. Ryan yelped- maybe when they brushed the sore markings on his back, but more likely just because there were crawling things running across his bare skin.

“Let’s-” Shane started, stepping forward to try and pull him free, but Ryan was reacting too quickly for Shane to stop what happened next.

Ryan reached into his hoodie and withdrew a knife, a battered one from the kitchens on the second floor, and twisted the vine around the blade, catching them in a mass and then _yanking_ down, both hands gripping strong. It ripped through the veins one by one by one, each of them tearing and spilling out black ink that spattered the floor in a hiss. Shane smelled heated metal, burning at his nose and lungs.

“Ryan- Ryan, stop!” Shane shouted, the god’s pain spilling over into his head, his anger, his fear. Steven’s face creased in pain before dipping back below the surface of the god’s being, leaving it faceless once more.

Ryan stiffened, gripping the knife tight in white knuckles as he skipped a few feet back. Veins shuddered and reached for Ryan all at once, stiff and poised to strike. 

Shane was well aware of how sharp they could be when they wanted to.

But he also knew that just as he could feel the god’s anger, the god could feel what he was feeling. He stepped in front of Ryan, between him and the other, holding his arms out wide.

“Stop.” He said, softly. He needed Ryan. He needed the god to know that Ryan was important to him.

The room shuddered around him and fell away, Ryan fell away, everything fell away except for Shane and the god, standing together in an unending darkness that pooled thick in Shane’s lungs. He struggled to catch his breath, but stood straight. His boots perched on nothing. He tried not to look down.

“Stop,” he repeated. His voice didn’t carry in the void, but the god understood, tendrils like spiny brambles in front of his face, sharp and unforgiving. Ryan stood somewhere behind him, he knew, but he couldn’t feel him.

And then the god withdrew all at once, and the air hissed like a pressure valve sealing tight.

Shane closed his eyes when the darkness swelled like an ocean around him and he reached both hands back wildly until he felt Ryan’s arm in the dark. He blindly pulled him into his arms, held on tight as the swell drew in. It dragged them off their feet like they weighed nothing, 

Then rushed out all at once, a unstoppable tidal wave that he had no control over.

They were slammed back violently, drowning in a sea of thick and dark as it flooded them out of the god’s room. Shane was familiar with the thick, airless substance, and simply held on tight until it was over. Until they were both thrown far down the hall, and the darkness withdrew.

They hit the ground together and just laid for a long moment, trying to catch their breath when the air returned. Shane was half atop Ryan, a clumsy, protective curl, even though he knew the god was gone for now.

Shane could feel Ryan gasp under him, belatedly realizing that he was hyperventilating. Shane lifted on his elbows to raise himself above him, giving him a little more room to try and breathe.

“We’re fine,” Shane whispered. “He isn’t going to kill us. We’re safe, as long as you stay with me.” He shifted to lean his not inconsiderable weight back on his legs, straddling Ryan’s hips. He leaned forward, cupping Ryan’s cheek carefully, testing, soothing, “you’re safe,” he breathed again, softly. His thumb brushed Ryan’s lower lip, the side of his jaw.

“What- what was that- that wasn’t real.” Ryan’s voice was shuddery and thick when it finally returned, as if the darkness still clung to his throat. Shane felt the same.

“Come on.” Shane got to his feet, brushing at his clothes; the inky liquid was already drying to something shimmery, falling away like ashes. But Ryan stayed firmly on the ground until Shane held out a hand for him, helping him to his feet. He was still shaking, just a little, breathing shallowly.

Shane quietly led him back to his room, guiding him to the round, deep chair, and this time Ryan didn’t complain when Shane sat down with him shoulder to shoulder. Ryan was staring at the floor, looking more than a little shell-shocked.

Shane spoke first.

“It’s not going to hurt us.”

Ryan looked to him. His eyes were a little bloodshot, Shane noticed, red streaks like he’d been editing wildly before a 9am deadline. Shane frowned, just a little, and laid a hand over his. Not holding hands- they’d never done that, before. 

Shane was trying very, very hard not to stray from the familiar territories of their friendship.

“What is it?” Ryan finally asked, a long time later. His voice was sandpaper rough. “I know you said it’s a god, but what _is it?_ Is it a creature? Can we kill it?”

“I don’t know.” Shane said. Ryan didn’t seem to care for the bland tone he took, sitting up a little straighter, a spark returning to his eyes.

“How can you not fucking care what it is?”

Shane shrugged, “How am I supposed to find out? Let some things be a mystery, Ryan. I know it’s not going to hurt us, and that’s what matters.”

Ryan made a frustrated sound, a sudden spike of rage lighting in his expression only to die just as quickly. “How are you so calm about this??” 

Ryan scraped a hand through his hair with a frustrated, weary noise. Shane only sighed.

“Because I already went through it, near 200 years ago. The shock wears off after a while, Ryan.”

To counteract his sharp words, he lifted a hand to Ryan’s shoulders, gently rubbing, searching out the knots. There was more knot than muscle, he thought. Ryan didn’t relax an inch under his touch.

James would have, by now- but back then they’d both been terrified of what they’d found. Seeking solace in one another had been… useful, losing the helpless terror of their mortality in the fuck. But James wasn’t Ryan. 

At least, not yet.

Ryan didn’t seem to catch the straying of his thoughts, and Shane was… relieved, even if there was a disappointed tinge to it as Ryan spoke again.

“So we’re safe. You know we’re safe. Because you said you had each one of us categorized. What category am I, then? … and is that what this means?”

Ryan reached for the bottom hem of his shirt, twisting to turn his back to Shane. He pulled until he bared the mark spread along his back, the one that had been placed on him that nightmarish evening at his apartment.

Shane hadn’t seen the mark in person yet. He just knew it was there. It was... larger than he’d imagined, intricate curlicues in some dead language Shane could only vaguely read. It was… pretty, almost, fanning between Ryan’s shoulder blades in delicate deep blue ink. Despite being days old, it looked wet still, glistening at the edges.

Shane laid his fingertips on it. It was hot to the touch.

“Yes,” he answered. It was his second lie. Well-- not an _exact_ lie. 

It _was_ a marker of the god’s inner priests, which _did_ mean Ryan was safe. But it had been- was- very specifically James’ mark. Priest of the second circle, James Aubrey Amantes.

Ghosts required some measure of consent in order to possess, but Everett- no, Shane- had circumnavigated that, a little. This marking on Ryan’s skin, that was consent enough for his purposes. James’ markings, for James’ body. Eventually, anyway. 

Shane let a fingertip trace one of the curves of ink, and Ryan let his shirt fall, twisting back to face Shane.

“...Do you have one, too?”

“Here.” Shane laid a hand lightly over his chest. The bandage was finally gone, the whole thing scabbed over. It still hurt to touch.

Ryan lifted a hand partway, “Let me see it.”

“What? No.” Shane’s hand tightened halfway to a fist before relaxing, just a subtle twitch. He didn’t know if Ryan had seen it. Maybe he didn’t.

“You saw mine. Let me see yours.” Ryan said, firmly. He did let his hand fall back to his thigh, though.

Shane hesitated. Ryan was going to hate it. But Ryan had that look in his eye, and so Shane listened, unbuttoning his shirt. The black marks on his chest fanned outwards from the scab, from his collarbones to the edges of his ribcage, lighting up his veins in black under his skin until the tattoo had formed like a brutal infection. Carved in the same crawling, twisting script as Ryan’s, even if the meaning wasn’t the same. Shane couldn’t read most of it, but he knew what it meant.

Prophet of the first circle. Everett Almstead.

Though, even upside down, it looked a little warped from the last time he’d seen it, through Everett’s eyes. Maybe his own name was carved in there now, too. Prophet of the first circle, Shane Alexander Madej. Or maybe it said Shane Almstead. Everett Alexander? Madej, Almstead and Associates. It wasn’t as if he knew where the hell the line between them was, anymore-- he realized abruptly that Ryan was staring at him. 

At the mark, probably.

“... Mine... doesn’t look like that.” Ryan whispered, bringing Shane back around to the topic on hand.

Shane knew exactly what he was referring to. Ryan’s markings were written atop the skin, more like a normal tattoo. Shane’s was buried beneath the skin, within his veins. More than that, Shane knew why. Ryan’s was still just a doorway. 

For Shane, something had already crawled its way underneath and taken up root.

Later, Ryan’s would look the same, even when the ghost set up shop. The thing was, there was truly no point in trying to explain that to Ryan, not when he was like this- so, he didn’t answer.

Ryan reached out to lay a hand on Shane’s markings, but Shane drew back, just a flinch. Finally beginning to heal didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Ryan saw his reaction and quickly drew back.

There was silence between them for a beat, uncomfortably close to becoming awkward before Ryan spoke again, voice soft in their shared quiet.

“...And you want this? You really and truly want this?”

“Yes,” Shane said again, his third lie coming as easily as the second. He didn’t actually know _what_ he wanted anymore- but that didn’t matter, not in the long run. Those things weren’t up to him anymore.

Ryan watched him is if he was waiting for him to change his mind. And when it didn’t happen, he turned away, something dark brewing between his furrowed brows. He drew his knees up, then kicked them back out with a frustrated noise. Shoving his heel against the empty pizza box sent it skipping across the ground, and he watched as it tumbled open.

Meanwhile, it was all Shane could do just to watch as the storm grew, hands curled tight on his lap because it was so much like James, the way he tore through emotions. They’d gotten in their share of quarrels. For a second, he imagined catching Ryan’s jaw with his knuckles, scraping them both bloody, and he could feel it, taste the copper on his bared teeth-

Ryan’s voice breaking the silence interrupted his thoughts, leaving Shane startled as he glanced down at his lap, flexing his hand and half-expecting to see it smeared red. He shook out his hand as Ryan spoke.

“I feel so fuckin’-- _useless!_ ”

Shane reached out to lay a hand on his knee. Ryan was scrubbing at his face with the heels of his hands, but he slammed both back down when Shane touched him, eyes a little wild.

“You don’t always have to be the one in control,” Shane said. 

And because he wanted to, Shane leaned over and kissed him.

He perhaps should have thought it through a bit more carefully. There was a skipped beat where he was expecting it to feel familiar- like they’d done this before. But of course, that wasn’t true, was it? Everett had kissed a dozen men, but Shane had only kissed Steven, and Ryan’s lips were strange under his.

But it felt _good_ , even if it didn’t quite feel right.

Something sparked hot in his stomach as he leaned closer, eyes slipping closed, his hand lifting to catch at the back of Ryan’s neck and keep him still. Had he ever thought of kissing Ryan before... all of this, before Everett warped every frame of reference he had? He couldn’t even remember anymore.

Shane thought that Ryan leaned into the kiss, just for a moment. One perfect moment. His lips were so soft under his, half parted in- surprise? Desire?

Then, Ryan pushed him away.

Shane’s eyes opened immediately, and he tried hard to quell the sting of disappointment. Ryan was flushed, but Shane couldn’t quite figure his expression out as Ryan struggled for words.

“No. No, we are not fuckin’ doing this, not now. You’re… you’re not _you_ , and we’re friends, and we work together, and we can’t fuck up the show, and-” He stopped suddenly, swallowing the rest of whatever he was going to say.

Shane had to laugh. That was what Ryan was worried about, in the midst of gods and cults and some very thorough destruction of company property? The goddamn show? There wasn’t even a fuckin’ Buzzfeed anymore- at least, not the LA branch. 

Shane had made damn sure of that.

“We are so far beyond the show.” He snorted, “In all terms of importance, right here and now.”

Ryan pursed his lips, just slightly. “...It’s important to me. Maybe not important right at this moment, but later. There’s too many things to deal with later to try and complicate things even more now.”

“And, taking into consideration your assumption of what ‘later’ means- those are really your only objections?” Shane prodded.

Something flickered across Ryan’s face, and this time Shane understood it. Ryan was carefully avoiding the topic of both of them being men. He didn’t want to upset Shane.

He was afraid of him.

Shane twitched his long fingers against his knees, more frustrated than guilty. Ryan was right beside him. He smelled good, fresh out of the shower but with a layer of fear, a salt tang Shane couldn’t get out of his thoughts.

“This doesn’t have to be all that complicated,” Shane muttered. “I was just trying to… comfort you. Nothing more nefarious than that.” That... wasn’t a lie, actually; there had been an element of trying to distract him, even if the means had been a little short-sighted and not overly well thought out.  
“You’re not even you!” Ryan reached out to grip Shane’s face, keeping their gazes on one another as if he looking hard enough would find the ‘real’ Shane within. 

Shane startled, but then kept still, passively watching him back.

“Well, see, I am. Sort of.”

“See? Complicated.” Ryan snapped, and let him go.

Really, Ryan was reacting to all of this better than Shane thought he might. There’d been so many expressions on his face back at the party, chief of which he’d thought had been disgust. But maybe Ryan was just… tired.

“You’re… I know for a fact you’re not gay. Shane, he- wouldn’t want this.” Ryan said quietly.

Shane scowled, slumping over into his side of the chair, jostling Ryan’s side with a little more force than necessary. 

“A fact, huh? What makes you the expert on what Shane does or does not want?”

Ryan raised a brow. “You’re talking in third person again, which really feels like you’re just proving me right. At least at this point I’d probably know better than you.”

“Don’t assume you know everything there is to know about me, Ryan. It’s rude. What makes you think you’re the type one would open their closet to?” 

Shane’s tone was sharp and it seemed he’d landed a blow, Ryan’s eyes widening a bit before shuttering.

“Sorry,” he said softly. 

Shane closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them it was with a smile. He gave Ryan a simple nod, and then brushed his fingertips along the soft, shaved part of Ryan’s hair. Ryan let him without complaint. He was still thinking hard about things Shane wasn’t privy to, but that was okay for now. Ryan always had to think things through for himself, and Shane hardly expected this to be any different.

Ryan sighed after a moment, and then shifted in the chair to scoot just a little closer into Shane’s side. 

That, Shane did not expect.

“I do miss you though,” Ryan said, and Shane brightened.

“You don’t need to. I’m still here. This is just a… new normal.” Shane gave him a grin and Ryan tried to mirror it the best he could. It faded quickly, but he made up for it by shifting closer, almost into a cuddle, not quite tucking his head under Shane’s chin. 

Ryan was quiet, contemplating something. But this close, Shane could hear him breathing faster than he should be sitting so still. Stiff lines rippled under his frame, shoulders and back taking turns illustrating his discomfort. 

Shane frowned, long fingertips brushing along the back of Ryan’s neck.

“You can relax. You’re safe.” Shane said softly. Ryan paused.

“With you. I know.”

Ryan’s about-face was… refreshing, but it wasn’t the reaction Shane thought he’d get from him, either. He was missing something. Had to be. This was almost romantic, and getting what he wanted shouldn’t have been this easy. 

Ryan was not and had never been easy.

“Shane... What are you to it? The god.”

Shane shrugged, brushing his fingers along Ryan’s earlobe. If nothing else, it was certainly novel, sitting this close to him. Ryan didn’t usually like to be touched.

“I am everything.” Shane said. “His lifeforce, his blood, his connection to this reality.”

“So…” Ryan trailed off, licking his lips, his hand slipping to Shane’s knee. 

Ryan’s fingers had never touched that part of him before, and Shane found it fascinating as Ryan continued.

“So if you were… gone, it’d go back to sleep?”

Ryan’s other hand sought contact as well, laying over Shane’s arm. His thumb brushed breathy circles over the pulse in his wrist, and- ah. That made more sense. He’d like to say he was disappointed, but he relished the familiarity of it- this, he could read, no foreign soil here.

He smiled, squeezing the back of Ryan’s neck. Not enough to hurt. Really, he wasn’t even sure he could take Ryan in a square fight. There was as much point in threatening him as there was in playing dumb.

“Well, well, Ryan- are we plotting? Is there a plot afoot?” Shane grinned, “Because you should know that I myself don’t know. The god’s never spoken like that before. This whole thing, it might already be beyond me- so if you’d wanted to kill me, shoulda done it while you had a chance.”

“I didn’t say that-”

“Anyway, I’d imagine he’d just find another me, at this point. God, Ryan, you’re transparent.”

“I didn’t say _anything_ -” Ryan frowned, trying to brush it off with a laugh. The combination of the two didn’t sit together right on his face, and he shook his head after a moment before continuing.

“So you’re just his keeper then? Mama chicken sitting on your big ‘ol fucking monster god egg, waiting for it to hatch.”

“Well, sure. Essentially.”

“And that’s what you were doing back at the mine- but as a ghost?”

“Part of me. Me and the other ghosts. I wasn’t alone.”

“James?”

“And others.”

But James was the important one. Sweet of Ryan to remember. Though Shane supposed being called by the wrong name is a memory that sticks with you.

Ryan straightened up a little, but he made sure he was still touching, skin to skin. He was all over the place, and Shane didn’t like it. What the fuck was he trying at?

“...Do you miss them? Dead, nowhere to go- hell of a long time to spend with someone.”

“I do,” Shane said simply. “But I can bring them here. I promised them I wouldn’t leave them behind- and I won’t.”

The god would want them anyway- his inner circle. They’d all waited more than long enough to be reunited. Ryan laughed, a short, disbelieving burst of giggles, cut off as quickly as they’d spilled out of him.

“So, lemme see if I got this plan straight.” Ryan freed his hands absently so he could gesture with them as he talked.

“You’re going to awaken your god. Go back to the abandoned mine you crawled out of, and pick up a bunch of other ghosts so they can haunt _Buzzfeed_ instead? Just a bunch of ghosts. Floating right through our desks. No more Unsolved- we’d just set up a camcorder right over there, and the show would be over.”

Ryan was giggling now, only a little hysterical at the edges. Shane joined in, just because he wanted to. It almost felt like home.

‘Well, ghosts can’t travel on their own. They’re trapped where they died- they can only pass through their barriers in a living body.” He was bragging a little, pleased at the curious look on Ryan’s face, "Look at me, comin' through for Paranormal Expert Ryan Bergara with all the ghost facts." 

Shane tapped his own temple in emphasis. Everett wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without him. Weird that he was the one that knew so much now and Ryan, so little. He laughed, ready to keep the bit going when he realized Ryan had gone stiff beside him.

He rapidly realized he’d made a mistake.

“Through living bodies. That’s- you called me James. You keep calling me James.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, looking him up and down, and Shane felt ice in the pit of his stomach. He’d never seen that look before. 

Ryan sat up, wriggling out of Shane’s personal space, pulling himself up of the deep slope of the chair. Shane could see all Ryan’s walls building back up, brick by stubborn brick. He was exhausted just watching.

“All this fuckin’ flirting- you don’t want me at all. You want him. James.”

Shane shrugged. Too late now.

“I want both. I’ll get both.”

Ryan scrambled to his feet, turning on him.

“You won’t. I’m not interested in…”

Ryan made a wild gesture, throwing both arms up in the air.

“This-- everything you got going on, here. I’ll stop you. Even if…”

Shane leant back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. This was more what he had been expecting from Ryan, but that didn’t mean he was enjoying it.

“Even if you have to kill me?”

Ryan tried to hide the hurt in his eyes. It was easier for Shane, hiding behind Everett’s apathy. Ryan had no such crutch. 

Ryan _cared._

“If I have to.”

Ryan took a step back, looking around the room. Backing his way up to the door, Ryan fairly fled from the room.

Shane let Ryan run, and sunk back into a chair that felt too big for just him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally made a tumblr post for this fic! If you're enjoying it, please consider retweeting to share with others. Thank you!  
> [https://3hauntingsat3pricepoints.tumblr.com/post/175724581489/host-of-sheets-horror-multi-chaptered ](https://3hauntingsat3pricepoints.tumblr.com/post/175724581489/host-of-sheets-horror-multi-chaptered)


	14. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH sorry this one took so long -_- It was the one I was dreading since the beginning of outlining, bc I knew it'd be complicated and contain all of my weaknesses in writing. And I had a TON of overtime at work. BUT IT'S FINISHED. :)I struggled with this one so much that it's pretty much co-written with my roommate [@margotwrites](https://twitter.com/margotwrites). I panicked and threw it at her often for advice and rewording. So I wanted to give her all the credit here. And it's her bday today! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARGOT <3 <3 <3

Ryan took his time listening to each of his own footsteps, the slow and steady creak of boots on concrete. The sound focused his thoughts, kept them from colliding painfully together. He didn’t want to think about anything at all, but his brain was running far too wild to cooperate to that extent.

Not yet, anyway. He would get there. He had to.

Slow. Steady. Steps.

Soon enough, he vaguely noticed the sun dipping below the horizon through the patches of the remaining windows. But the deep orange sunset haze lit the vines strangely- the veins, Shane had called them.

It was fitting enough, looking up close- they did have a bit of a heartbeat to them. He could see the rhythm of it, pulsating gently in the dark.

He could also glimpse half-faces peering at him from deep within that dark, staring at him with glistening black eyes. Ryan strained to scan their features, looking for a familiar face despite himself- did he really want to know whose body the god was using this time? Who the walls had taken?

They were reaching for him, their fingers cold and sharp, but he realized they weren’t trying to drag him in this time; they were beckoning him, his friends calling him close.

And that was much, much worse.

He couldn’t get Steven’s face out of his mind, expressionless, eyes coated in silver. Shane had promised Steven wasn’t feeling any pain, and Ryan longed to believe him- but Ryan hadn’t thought to ask if this Steven was capable of feeling anything at all. What kind of life did he have now? What was it like, existing inside ...that? He remembered the blistering cold shearing his fingertips and--

-fuck, he was thinking again.

Ryan stopped in the middle of the hallway, laid his hands on his knees and breathed; studied his shoelaces, the ins and outs of each lace. He was still having trouble breathing, even though it’d been hours since the god took his breath away. Was this going to be permanent? Or- a panic attack? What did those even feel like?

...It probably wasn’t permanent. He was being stupid. He just needed to lay down, breathe, and maybe have someone tell him that his heart wasn’t really going to give out in his chest.

Everything was silent around him, save for the soft rustle of the vines. It was almost a comforting noise, familiar by now, and so he focused on that; closing his eyes, and pretending it was just the rustle of leaves outside- maybe like in the park, near Orange and Tillman street- he’d always liked that park.

And whatever it was he’d just experienced?

That wasn’t real. Couldn’t have been.

It was frankly unbelievable, when he tried to dredge the memory back up. All this time wandering the halls (what time had he even left? what time was it now?), and he still couldn’t wrap his mind around… that thing.

It’d felt so present, buzzing at all of his senses. He could smell it, taste it in the air like a bad cologne clinging to his clothes. The strange scent of heated metal still lingered even now; somehow, he didn’t think it’d ever wash out.

Despite his desperate disbelief, it was real. Whatever it was. And even after all this time pacing, all the static silence in the halls, he couldn’t figure out what to do with that information.

All he knew was that he’d lived through the experience, somehow. He’d even hurt it, it looked like, with his dull, flimsy knife. Maybe he could find a better weapon, and-- maybe it wouldn’t have Steven’s face, next time.

But then, there was Shane.

//You should’ve killed me while you had the chance.//

Goosebumps prickled along Ryan’s body, making his skin feel raw and open. It wasn’t the first time today he’d felt that full-frame shudder sting at him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either.

The thing was, he knew Shane’s face, knew his weird little tics and twitches- and he knew Shane was bluffing. 'I'm not important to the god'-- Shane had said himself he was the god's eyes. His hands.

Since Shane was still flesh and blood as far as Ryan knew, he would be the first point of attack. Cut off the hands, because it had to be easier to take down afterwards. Go for the heart.

If Ryan was going to make a plan, that was where he'd start-- but why was he was even entertaining the thought?

He said he wasn’t going to kill Shane, and he had meant it. He thought he'd meant it. He didn't want to even think about the possibility, but suddenly, he realized why he was- why his brain kept leading him down these vicious rabbit trails.

If he stopped, he'd have to think about everything else they'd talked about. What they'd done.

And planning the best way to take Shane down was a hell of a lot easier than thinking about when he’d kissed him.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pinching it vindictively hard.

Ryan had to assume Shane was lying to him then to-- about the closets and all the crap. Because- because he would have known. How dare he insinuate he didn’t know his own best friend.

Because he did know...didn’t he?

Ryan pushed a thumb against his lip and then scowled, pressing them together in a tight line. He could still feel him there- and he didn’t like it. The thought made him itch. Made his heart skip faster, and fuck if it wasn't already going so fast that he couldn’t make out individual beats.

He slowed his pace to a stop, taking a deep breath, and then another. Really, was this a panic attack? Because he’d never had one, and he couldn’t remember what he’d heard about them- but he didn’t like whatever this was, not one goddamn bit.

Short. Shallow. Breaths.

He was fine.

Because he knew it wasn’t Shane that wanted him. It was the thing inside Shane. It made things simpler, strangely enough. Simple enough, apparently, for him to go ahead and lean in close, to flirt with him for information and--

-Wow. That was what he had done, wasn’t it? He hadn’t thought it through, then- while caught up in the moment, it’d just seemed like the easiest mode of operation. Lean in close, touch, ask his questions, use that same simple distinction as a buffer between them even as he looked Shane in the eyes.

He and Shane had never talked much about sexuality, not even under the warm, syrupy haze of alcohol-soaked nights. There were always better- more interesting- things to talk about, and frankly, Ryan had never thought to bring it up-- and even if Shane had, he'd never shared it.

Ryan didn’t like to think about any more complicated nuances of his preferences, and he hadn't needed to- he’d always found girlfriends easy enough. Girls were pretty. Girls were soft. Girls were sweet.

But Shane was something, too.

Fuck it, this was just the adrenaline talking. He didn’t mean it, he was sure- he probably just felt guilty about tricking Shane and guiltier still about how… easy it had all been. To tuck himself close, to touch and promise. And the worst part was, he knew it would be even easier to do it again. Easy to get Shane’s guard down.

He withdrew the battered knife from his jacket pocket and fiddled with it. If it really came down to it, could he do it?

He gripped the handle and closed his eyes and imagined. He imagined his hand cupping the back of Shane’s neck, pulling him closer, down to his level. Angling the knife just right, and slip right in. He already knew intimately how easy it would part skin.

And how much it burned. He frowned, thumbing at his own bandages.

If he could get that far, would Shane cry out? Would he have to hold him steady, keep him still while Shane trembled and jerked in his arms? Frame pressed against frame, the knife in between them. Holding him close, burying his face against his neck, hand caught in Shane’s tousled hair. One last chance to remember his scent, one last chance to brush his lips against his neck or slip up to kiss him before he bled to a halt-

Ryan winced, thumb lifting to brush against his lower lip again, slower this time, lingering. But his fingers and palms were sweaty, and now all he tasted was salt, Shane’s lips forgotten. He cursed to himself and rubbed his palm against his jeans roughly.

What the hell was he thinking?

It was easier to not think about what their relationship was or wasn't when he figured it would last forever.

And really, it was fucking easier to not think at all, so why was he still letting his mind wander? All he needed to do was compile enough information to pass onto the others. The important information. They didn’t need to know every sordid detail to make a plan- they just needed the time he was currently wasting.

Gritting his teeth, he looked up and down the silent hall and quickened his pace.

 

….

 

“Ryan, you’re back!”

Jen was standing, so it was easy enough for her to press him into a hug. Easier still to slug him in the shoulder.

“You said you’d be back before dark, you loser.”

Oh. That was right. He had promised that. Fuck. He hadn’t even been aware that much time had passed.

“Yeah, you were gone a long time, we kinda thought maybe you might not be back.” Andrew said, looking Ryan up and down. “What did you guys talk about?”

“He’s not going to kill us,” was how Ryan decided to start. Always start with the good news, right?

Adam raised a brow, and Andrew spoke for him.

“Well, we certainly don’t like that tone of voice. What’s the rest?”

Ryan fidgeted.

“...Shane... He wants us to join his little cult thing. But he needs our permission, our consent, so he’s trying to convert us.”

“Nope, fuck that.” Kelsey snorted, “If I wanted to join a cult, the Scientology building is just down the street. Tell him I’m good, thanks.”

“It's not just Shane, it's...” That same raw chill prickled his skin at the thought. Shane's god, immense and terrible. And they must have seen his tremble, because their expressions softened all at once.

Jen nudged him, and he took a stuttered inhale.

“There's-- something else.”

Somehow, he found the words to explain it to them, to describe the god as best he could, but his legs had gone rubbery sometime in the last quarter and it was all he could do to keep talking as he let himself slide downwards.

Jen came to his left, and Adam to his right, kneeling next to him, their touch a steady comfort in unison as they let him babble, gently grounding him.

When Ryan finished he took a shallow breath, and Andrew lowered himself on his haunches in front of him.

“But you hurt it,” He said simply.

Ryan nodded.

“So all of us together. We can kill it.” Andrew smiled, just a little lopsided.

“But Shane. And his followers.” Ryan replied hollowly. They had to talk about it sometime.

Andrew pursed his lips, “Aw hell, you’re right. Steven could be a problem for me- for us, I mean. But I think I can stop-”

Andrew cut off, pale gaze narrowing at Ryan’s expression. He internally winced- he didn’t know when they’d got so good at reading him, but he didn’t appreciate it.

“What’s that face for, Ryan?”

“You don’t have to worry about him. About Steven.”

It was barely a whisper, guilty. Steven’s mercury eyes stared blankly at him from his mind's eye. He would never forget that sight, not as long as he lived.

“….why not, Ryan?” Andrew’s voice lowered to match Ryan’s, unreadably calm.

“He’s gone. In the walls.”

Andrew and Adam’s expressions shuttered. Jen made a soft sound that caught in her throat. Kelsey laid a hand on Jen’s back gently, stone-faced. They’d lost so many over the last few days; it was a little weird that this was the last straw, the moment they’d voicelessly chosen to mourn together. But Ryan supposed it made sense; they weren’t ready to lose anyone else. They stayed close, huddled together near the middle of the room in silence, not quite touching.

They grieved in silence and listened to the walls, all of them watching for familiar faces.

And for a day, there was nothing.

 

WEDNESDAY

The next day, Zach and Kristen came to their hideaway. 

They had known Zach was under the call, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that Kristen was, too. Both spoke of the wonder and majesty of the mountain god; of his prophet, Shane, most beloved. 

Their hymns fell on deaf ears.

All Ryan could do was wonder how the hell they’d memorized it all already.

“He’ll send others. You need to listen,” Kristen said.

After they left, the group spent the rest of the afternoon desperately sweeping their floor for an exit or another place to stay, now that they were certain Shane knew where they were. They searched until the sun went down and then returned to base for a dinner of granola and sprite, spirits dimmer than ever.

And that night, while the others tossed and turned in their sleep, Ryan texted Shane.

 

Ryan:  
Our phones are dying. Soon u can’t talk to me like this anymore.

 

Shane:  
Oh no, that won’t do. I have some. Come up and get one.

 

Ryan:  
No way. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be ignoring your future texts on purpose.  
Good night, Shane.

But when Ryan woke up the next morning, a neatly wrapped phone cord laid at their door. He plugged his dead phone in, waited as the charging icon blinked to life just enough to turn it on again.

Shane’s text was already waiting.

 

Shane: Better? :)

 

Ryan: ...Thx.

 

THURSDAY

 

The next day, it was Garrett and Niki who came. And from their twitchy anxiety, it was clear enough that they weren’t under the call- unlike Zach, watching them sharply from where he waited just outside the door.

They’d come armed with pizza. A peace offering.

“Shane said it’d be better for you if you came back with us,” Garrett said.

“He says he’ll keep us safe, we won’t end up in the walls like the others.” Niki added. Their voices shook.

“He said we could split the pizza with you guys if we brought it down. Please take the pizza, we’re hungry.” Garrett gave them a small, joyless smile.

The group relented soon enough; it didn’t help any that the pizza smelled heavenly. 

Niki and Garrett had been just like them- except Shane had found them running, and brought them back with him. Apparently he had a group of people sitting in some back room, just waiting for them to give in and agree to be his acolytes. 

It made no goddamn sense to Ryan. Did a ‘yes’ really count if they were starved and scared and exhausted? And who did he have in there?

“If he knows where we are, why hasn’t he just collected us, too?” Ryan scowled, frustrated.

“I think ‘cause of you,” Niki offered between bites full of gooey cheese, “He doesn’t want you sitting in the cell.”

“Man, and here I thought Shane liked me.” Garrett mumbled, a soft joke that fell flat in the silence.

“This isn’t a cell?” Ryan grumbled. 

It felt like one, the walls growing closer together every day.

Niki shrugged, reaching for another slice. Ryan laid a hand lightly over hers, barely more than his fingertips.

“... Be careful.”

She watched him with wide eyes, but other than a short nod, she didn’t say anything more.

They left after the pizza boxes were empty, Zack reminding them it was time and herding them down the hall.

It took everyone else just a little bit longer to fall asleep this time, unsettled. Ryan fought the leaden heaviness of his eyelids, waiting them out, and once he was sure they were all asleep, he drew his phone from his pocket. None of them knew about his nightly texts with Shane; he didn’t even know what he felt about it yet, but something in him instinctively wanted to keep it close to the vest.

It was a precarious little secret, and he wasn’t going to think about it.

 

Shane:   
Aw hell, tonight was that red moon eclipse. I can see it out my window.

Shane:  
We were gonna drive out and see it proper, remember?

Ryan:  
I remember you talking about it. Sounded cool. 

Ryan hesitated, tapping the side of his phone once, and continued.

Ryan:  
Not too late. Let’s go.

Shane:  
So you can bolt? I ain’t stupid, Ry.

Ryan:   
Suit yourself. It was your idea.

 

FRIDAY

 

Ryan’s fucking back was killing him. 

His shoulder ached from laying on the ground, fucked up by whatever position his unconscious body twisted itself into. His hip felt like a bruise. They’d gathered some couch pillows and the like wherever they could, over the last few days- if Shane could nest, so could they. But even if they could find more than a few of the mostly decorative, moderately hip pillows, it wouldn’t change that they were making their beds on cold concrete.

Ryan and Shane had been texting on and off throughout the day, Ryan’s phone set on silent.

 

Ryan:  
Move the fucking vines out of the gym, okay? I’m so goddam restless.

Shane:  
Without prep, Ryan?? Electrolytes? Protein? Those ain’t in all that cereal and soda. :)

Ryan:  
Asshole.

Shane:  
:(

 

That was when when Adam plucked the phone from Ryan’s hand, a glance at the screen furrowing his brows as he looked back at Ryan.

Ryan pursed his lips uncomfortably, snatching it back.

“It’s none of your goddam business.”

He shoved it into his pocket with a scowl, and didn’t take it out again for the rest of the afternoon. He waited until they were asleep again.

 

Ryan:  
You know we’re supposed to be at the stardust shoot this week?

Shane:  
That would have been a terrible episode anyway, Ryan! All that’s there is straight up crackpots. Killing aliens with katanas? Even you’ve gotta call shenanigans on that. 

Shane:  
I couldn’t have kept a straight face.

Ryan: ...I know, that’s why I wanted to make it. :)

Shane:  
Ha. Y’know, I do bet ya the fans would’ve loved it. Instant Ghouligan classic.

It was late, Ryan flat on his back counting cracks in the ceiling, too tired to type anything out. His phone lit up, a tiny crack of pale light where he’d laid it face-down on his chest.

He hesitated before picking it up- and again, once he read it.

Shane:  
Ryan, serious question here. Are we going to talk about that thing?

Shane:  
The… well, that kiss.

Ryan stared at the ceiling, and left it on read.

 

SATURDAY

 

The next day, Shane lost his temper.

He’d sent Eugene to them this time, another person who wasn’t under the call. Eugene had dark circles under his eyes and bandages around his left arm.

“You guys are making him angry. Can’t you just... give up? It’s not so bad, it’s really not. Not as bad as this little hell-hole you got going on here.” Eugene said, gesturing at their space.

“Everything you’re saying is fucking bonkers, Eugene. How are you on his side?” Kelsey said. She glared at Eugene, but he stared evenly back.

“There aren’t other sides. There’s only him. You think you’re going to find an exit- a way out of here? You think that you get out of this your way?”

Ryan lightly touched Eugene’s shoulder, “What did he do to your arm?”

Eugene turned to him, expression stone.

”You telling me you really don’t know, Bergara? Shane says you have one, too.”

And he unwrapped the bandages to show a tattoo, running up his inner arm, ornate. It looked rougher than Ryan’s- done by a human hand instead of ghosts, he supposed.

“I’m just an acolyte,” Eugene clarified, with a shrug that tried to show he didn’t care. He wore his strained apathy like he wore anything- like it belonged on his skin, a natural part of him. “Niki and Garrett finally took their marks, too.”

Ryan frowned, something sinking in him.

“...Heard yours was fancier though. Priest.” Eugene gave him a small, sharp smile. “Just go ahead and come back with me so Shane can chill the fuck out, okay?” 

Ryan shook his head, but Jen stepped forward to defend him, as if she could see that he was already starting to wear thin.

“Shane wants us that bad, he should come down here himself,” she said, jaw set.

“He’s trying to give you all ‘space’. He wants willing applicants.” Eugene shrugged loosely.

“Oh, because you were so willing Eugene, don’t bullshit me.” Now it was Kelsey’s turn, and she didn’t hesitate for a second. She stepped up to Eugene, and shoved him, two fingers against his chest.

“Eugene, you need to get your skinny ass over here and stop being fucking stupid.”

“Kelsey, shut up- you don’t understand-”

“Like fuck do I understand. You look like hell. I look like hell, but at least I’m calling my own shots. Shane ain’t so fucking scary- and whatever the hell’s in the goddamn walls doesn’t fuckin’ scare me either. We’re gonna find a way out of here, and it’ll be because we’re not spending all our precious time memorizing meek little prayers to this fake-ass god and his stupid prophet.”

She glared at him.

“...They are kinda stupid. I’m not even sure what language they’re in.” Eugene smiled, just a little, “sounds a little like gargling balls.”

Kelsey snorted. 

“So stay here with us, asshole. Shane may have got the creature comforts-”

Eugene rolled his eyes, “Like food, water- you know, the things we need to live-”

“-BUT we aren’t licking anyone’s fuckin’ boots, and that’s a pretty good life, I think.” Her eyes darkened, “Hell, maybe if worse comes to worse, we should just burn the whole fuckin’ place to the ground. That’ll show him-”

Images of everyone’s faces swam through Ryan’s head.

“I- we don’t know what that would do to the people… stuck in the walls. They’re still alive in there!” He protested. 

Kelsey turned to him, expression flat.

“Are they, though? And if so… really, what kind of life is that?”

Everyone around him had this worst case scenario in their head- and it was exhausting. Ryan was trying so damn hard not to think that way- if they were going to get out of here, they needed to at least try to be optimistic.

But even worse- they weren’t wrong. It’d been a week, and nothing had changed. Optimism hadn’t done much anything.

“Do what you want, Eugene.” Ryan said, weary. “We’re not exactly shining examples of leadership. But quit talking for Shane. Tell him he doesn’t fuckin’ impress us by sending his lackeys.”

“Or don’t go back at all! Stay with us, Eugene.” Kelsey took his hand, squeezing hard. The others nodded and Ryan almost joined them in agreement, but something moving out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

The vines slithered and an eye blinked at them. At him.

Something was watching them.

Meanwhile, Eugene sounded more hesitant than Ryan had ever heard from him before. 

“I’d...Kelsey, I’d like to stay-”

“We can talk about this later!” Ryan cut in hastily, eyes darting over the vines.

Eugene’s eyes widened- and then shuttered. As if he saw something they couldn’t. 

“Nevermind. I should go. I- bye.” He said, already turning to leave the room quickly, Kelsey crossing her arms tight as he left and Jen laying a hand on her elbow.

And then everything went to hell.

The rest of them turned when they heard a strange rustle. Kelsey skipped backwards first as all the vines whipped out of the walls en masse, rushing towards them.

“Scatter, bitches!” She shrieked.

Ryan didn’t need to be told twice. They all bolted for the door, Kelsey in the lead, Jen in the back and the boys rushing in the middle. Ryan gripped his knife- everyone had a designated role, Shane had told him that. So he wasn’t going to pull them into the walls, he was just angry, just trying to scare them, he-

A vine whipped around Jen’s ankle before she made it through the doorway, yanked, and she hit the ground nearly face-first with something between a scream and a startled curse. The vines tightened around her ankle, clawed at her waist, dragging her backwards towards the walls. 

She tried to fight, she really did, kicking at her bindings and scrabbling for anything she could hold on to. Ryan turned around at her scream to see her catch onto the legs of the metal storage shelving near the middle of the saferoom, wrapping around it and desperately holding on. But the shelf was flimsy and it gave out before her grip did, tipping over with a loud crash, spray cans and old used painting tarps hitting the ground with clatters and clangs. A tool box was the loudest, spilling wrenches and screwdrivers just out of Jen’s reach as she strained just to hold on to the toppled shelf.  
The shelf scraped shrill against the concrete and Jen kept sliding, one foot disappearing to the ankle into the wall. She screamed, louder this time, panicked. Ryan knew exactly how cold and sharp it was in there.

“Jen!” Ryan shouted after her, pulling out his knife, hesitating. The vines were so fast and had filled the room so quickly and he didn’t know what to do- he was half the room away still, it had been bare fucking seconds and he’d never get there in time, Jen buried to the waist and shouting-

-Kelsey had no such reservations. Ryan saw her throw herself past him, vicious intent in her eyes. She whipped out a lighter from her pocket and that pushed Ryan to action, twisting to chase after her. He didn’t want to lose them, he couldn’t, there’d already been so many-

Kelsey ducked a vine that darted for her throat, kneeling down in a quick skid to pick up a spray can before stumbling back to her feet. Ryan’s eyes widened with realization as recognized the familiar blue and yellow of WD40, but not quickly enough to stop her as she charged towards the wall, spray can up and lighter flicked on. 

She pressed down hard on the cap.

Liquid flame poured out of Kelsey’s hands and the eyes in the walls knew well enough to move, dip back into their darkness, but the veins themselves were just a fraction too slow, still clutching at their prey. The ones holding onto nothing hissed and whipped in a frenzy, but snarled out of Kelsey’s way with a pained twitch.

Jen was half gone when Kelsey advanced, but she squeezed her eyes shut, covered her head and threw herself the side as Kelsey lit up the walls. 

The veins howled, and their screams sounded almost human.

“Let her go, you freaky motherfuckers-!” Kelsey said, and Jen grunted in agreement. She twisted and bit down on a vine around her shoulders and coughed, spitting out black ink as the vine writhed. She scrambled to drag herself forward when the singed vines withdrew, smoking and smelling like burnt human hair. 

Kelsey grabbed her arm to yank her to her feet and Jen was all too happy to follow, stumbling, skin blue from its contact with the vines. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, coughing up black, inky spatter. Underneath, her lips were icy and pale.

Ryan grabbed them both to help them out of the room, putting himself at their back as his eyes watered at the smell of smoke. Out of the room, out out out-

All of them darted down the hallway, but the vines were quick to regroup and cascade after, pouring out of the room like an avalanche of flesh and bone and veins.

He wasn’t sure if any of them even knew where they were headed. They’d never found another saferoom. 

The hallways were getting smaller, choked with gnarled tendrils scraping at them from the walls. They couldn’t run so much as huddle in and push each other forward step by step. Andrew cursed as fingers caught in his hair, tried to drag him in, but he smashed an elbow into the mass to shove it back and Adam helped him catch his footing.

“Fuck, they’re cold-!” he hissed. Crowded up behind him, Jen gave a nod, teeth chattering and blue as they turned blindly down another hallway.

At the end of it, Shane was waiting for them. 

He stood calmly in the middle of the hall, surrounding by veins that obediently kept out of his way, flickering like a dark crown of thorns around him.

Behind him, Eugene stood silently in the shadows, head bowed. He looked like he’d rather be swallowed up by the vines behind him than be seen.

Their human tangle skidded to a stop, and Shane smiled at them. It was soft. Flat.

They could keep running, Ryan thought- shove past him. Somehow, he even thought Shane would let them. They’d find another hallway, another floor, probably even another saferoom- the building was huge, by any standards. 

But what was the point if they couldn’t change anything?

Something had to give, eventually.

Or someone.

Ryan watched Shane, then looked over his shoulder at the friends he had left. Scratched and bruised, their bone-deep weariness clashing with adrenaline-fueled terror. Jen was a little burned, but also tinged blue, shivering and leaning hard against Kelsey. She’d been half-sunken into whatever hell the wall led to, and then yanked out again- Ryan couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. He still hadn’t forgotten that icy burn instantly snapping against just his fingertips.

Shane was only torturing them to get to him. He wanted Ryan alone. Alone, and relying solely on him. Ryan paused.

“I’ve got a plan,” He said softly to the others.

Andrew raised a brow, “Is it a stupid plan?”

“Yep.”

Ryan stepped forward, in front of them. Shane smiled.

“You know, I can play this game forever, Ryan.”

“You don’t have to. I’m coming.” Ryan paused, “To do whatever you want. I’ll listen. I won’t fight.”

Shane’s eyes glittered strangely in the dim. “Even if I were to take you back to the mine? Introduce you to some... old friends?”

Ryan clenched his jaw around a shudder, and nodded. 

“Whatever you want. Just me, though. You’re going to leave the rest of them alone. That’s my deal.”

Shane considered them, dragging his gaze over each of Ryan’s ragtag holdouts. 

He tapped his lip thoughtfully, “But see, I want all of you. And I can’t help but feel I’m in a pretty good position to get just that.”

“Don’t bullshit yourself, Shane. You know me. I’m stubborn as fuck. I’ll die before I let you take us. I’ll starve. I’ll walk myself into your goddamn walls. So what you can get in exchange for them, is me. Willing.”

“Ry, what are you-” Jen protested, but Ryan squeezed her arm.

Shane considered it, visibly hesitating. Ryan waited with his breath caught in his throat.

“You know I’m your favorite.” Ryan added, a final offer, softer than the rest.

And Shane smiled.

“Okay. Let’s go.”


	15. Roadtrip!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long -_- I'm so close to the end, but things keep coming up in real life! I'm already working on the ending, and a lot of it was already written out a long time ago, so the next chapter will come MUCH quicker, I promise.

**Ryan**

 

“...That’s your plan?” Adam asked.

Ryan scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling his shoulders tense another fraction. Shane had left them alone to say their goodbyes while he prepped for the trip, but Ryan’s goodbye was less than pleasant so far. He was fucking tired of arguing-- tired of everything-- “And what, you’ve got a better one?”

“And you really think Shane’s just gonna to let you perform an _exorcism_ on him?” Kelsey raised a brow.

“An exorcism that you’ve never actually even performed before?” Andrew added.

“And, might I add, an exorcism that’s just _words_ you found on the fuckin’ _internet?_ ” Jen finished off, and somehow they all gave him the same narrow-eyed look.

“Oh my fucking god, guys. Knock it off. This is happening, and I have to try. We know we can’t stop him as long as he’s in here with us- he’s way too powerful. But... if I can get him alone? I think I have a chance.” 

Ryan paused, pressed his lips together, “I can’t guarantee he’s actually going to let you guys go, but I hope he will. Shane used to be a man of his word. And if I somehow get away with all this... I’ll call you. We’ll come back. Maybe once Shane’s in his right mind, he’ll know how to stop the god in the building.”

“So many ifs and maybes…” Jen murmured. She gently nudged him with her shoulder, and Ryan laid a hand on her back absently. “I’m worried for you, Ryan.” 

“Yeah, you can’t do this alone.” Andrew said. Then, his brows furrowed. “...I’m going to come along with you. Secretly. Maybe you can have an extra element of surprise, if I can get the jump on him.”

“We,” Adam corrected somberly, “ _we_ will come with you.”

Ryan shook his head, “No, if there’s too many of you, Shane’ll notice-”

“Just me and Adam. The girls can go free-”

“Heeeeey, fuck you.” Kelsey cut in cheerfully, “I was already planning on staying here. Without Shane, I think I can convince a few more people to join our side when Ryan gets back. I want to stay. Maybe start some mutiny all up in this business."

“Kelsey, that’s crazy-”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest, “I saw the look on Eugene’s face. I’m not just going to abandon him and the others in there.”

Andrew’s expression creased, but Adam interrupted. “So, Kelsey’s staying. But we’re going. With you.”

“You’d do that for me?” Ryan’s words were as soft as Adam’s. And he hesitated, his gaze flicking between each of them, one at a time. But after all they’d gone through together, he was beginning to read them pretty well, and what he saw was resolute. Unyielding. 

He nodded, once.

“Alright.”

Paranoid still, he looked around for eyes in the walls before he leant forward, temple brushing Adam’s with a murmur. “My car is on the third floor of the parking lot. The spare key’s in the tire well. Hide, and fast. I’ll try and keep Shane’s attention for as long as I can. If you hear us coming too soon, just- run for it, alright?”

If they were hidden well enough, he’d have no idea if they were even there at all. But Ryan already knew he couldn’t build a plan that relied on them being there; he was doing this alone. But… even the chance of having assistance made him feel better, somewhat.

He turned to Kelsey and Jen at Adam’s nod of understanding, but they were busy; Kelsey was looking over the burns on Jen’s shoulders with obvious distress.

“Aw _fuck_ , I hurt you- aw fuck-”

Jen shook her head quickly, “No, it’s okay, really. It’s better than the alternative, Kelsey.”

“I’m such a fuckin’ disaster, I’m so, so sorry-”

Kelsey gently skimmed her fingers just above the burns without touching, her thumb brushing Jen’s neck before lifting her hand to tuck dark hair behind Jen’s ear.

“I’m sorry. Really.” Kelsey said, softly.

“Sh.” Jen smiled, and her gaze skimmed across to Ryan. 

Ryan coughed, “I guess we should get going now. Shane’s waiting.”

Kelsey nodded. With that and a moment of grim silence, they made their way to the lobby. 

Shane was standing there, by himself, and for a moment Ryan was tempted to just jump the guy; Shane had no guards, and Ryan had his friends behind him. They could easily get him to the floor, and try the exorcism right here and now. But Ryan knew, viscerally, that the vines that curved around the front door could come to life whenever Shane wanted them to. 

Ryan would have to get them much further away from Shane’s god before he could try anything.

Ryan went over the Latin of the exorcism rite again in his head, making sure he remembered each and every word. He watched Shane’s eyes as the man turned to face the door- to face them. Shane didn’t need words to open it; a simple gesture of his fingers and the vines uncurled, sharp edges twitching like melting plastic under fire.

Ryan’s group watched breathlessly as the vines withdrew, as the sun crinkled and unfurled through the clear glass of the window panes before flooding in all at once, warm on their skin. Ryan closed his eyes as he felt it on his face; light that had heat to it, not just the lifeless glare of the fluorescents. Outside, he could see it was late afternoon, and the sun was seared orange with haze, dark and beautiful. 

If this was going to be his last sunset, it was a good one.

 

**Shane**

 

As nice as it was to see Ryan’s face again, Shane’s gaze was still caught on the door as he simply... waved his fingers and the god reacted, moving with even that minute ounce of his will. He could control the god, the building, the people. He was powerful. He was something beyond human, and that was worth... whatever it was that he’d lost. 

He didn’t remember what it was- and he didn’t miss it.

He turned to face the others only when the sun filtered in, sharp and irritating. Ryan closed his eyes against the glaring light and Shane paused, Ryan’s expression nothing but serene.

“Ryan,” he said softly, with a brief flash of irritation when Ryan took a moment too long to answer. Ryan opened his eyes halfway to look at him, dark eyes familiar, soft and lovely. It didn’t last long before his expression hardened, something flickering there that Shane recognized.

Fear.

“Yeah?”

Shane smiled. “You’re scared.” He shrugged, “Guess I can’t blame you.”

He reached out to lay a hand on Ryan’s back to lead him through the doorway himself, into the open air. It smelled like exhaust and burnt asphalt.

“It’ll be okay, Ryan. I promise. I’m fine. You’ll be fine, too.”

He gestured at the others, still hesitating in the shadows of the lobby. 

“Well, come along folks!” he said cheerily. Adam nodded, taking Andrew’s wrist to stride past Shane and Ryan without so much as a goodbye, heading straight towards the garage. Andrew looked over his shoulder once, mouthing a “good luck” to Ryan, and Shane snorted.

Jen stepped out into the light, but Kelsey stayed behind. Shane cocked his head at her curiously. “You’re not leaving? Ryan here bought your freedom, y’know.”

Kelsey shrugged, “I can pay my own fuckin’ way- and on my own terms. I want to hear more about what’s going on. And hell- I miss Eugene.” 

“You… do?” Shane was momentarily set aback.

“Yeah. I’m not gonna fucking abandon everyone.” She gave Andrew and Adam’s retreating backs a very pointed look and Shane relaxed a little. He knew from what little he’d eavesdropped that the group didn’t agree on much, but he was relieved to find that it went this far. He’d thought if any of them had agreed with his ways, they would’ve come to him sooner. But maybe she just didn’t want to leave Jen- her and Jen saw things differently, he could see that plain enough in Jen’s frown.

“... And to be real here, I’m curious about what you have to say. _Without_ this guy’s running commentary.” Kelsey’s pointed look shifted to Ryan next, and Ryan stiffened beside him. 

Huh. Alright.

“I have lots to share,” Shane agreed softly, his gaze dragging to Jen where she stood in the courtyard, free from the building’s confines.

“And how about you, Jen?”

Jen hesitated, sunlight shining against her dark hair. She looked back to Kelsey, and Kelsey smiled. 

“Jen, you can go. You should.”

Jen looked to Shane, and he gave a simple shrug in agreement. He’d made a promise to Ryan. He loved Jen, but he could let her go.

Jen’s gaze flicked to the blue tint that still mottled her arms, faded now but still readily apparent, a watercolor wash of cerulean. And then she gave Kelsey a soft, lopsided smile.

“...Well, I can’t abandon my wife, right? ‘Til death do us part’ and all that.” Jen said with a shrug, visibly self-conscious before she turned to walk back into the darkness, returning to Kelsey’s side. 

Kelsey’s cheeks turned visibly pink, “Guess you aren’t the running type, huh?”

“I’m really not, Kelsey.”

Shane smiled. How very sweet. Not to mention, two more souls to add to his count.

He let them retreat back into the lobby before closing the vines over the doorway again, leaving him and Ryan standing alone at the darkened front door, the late afternoon sun beating down on them.

 

**Ryan**

 

Ryan finally let himself exhale. They’d all played Shane and they’d played him well- he hoped. He exhaled until there was nothing left, until it was a push to force the last stale snap of recycled office air from his insides.

His inhale was slower, more languid, letting the sticky sweet smell of the star jasmine that lined the courtyard fill his lungs- a familiar, comforting smell, pure LA summer after being stuck inside all that time. He let the sun warm his cheeks for as long as he could until he felt a hand on his back. Shane.

Now his only option was to dig himself deeper, and hope he could still drag himself out at the end.

“Let’s go.”

Ryan paused and looked behind them, the vines already twining back into place, separating Kelsey and Jen from him. Looking ahead, Adam and Andrew were already long gone. 

He was alone.

“...Yeah.” He said softly. He stepped sideways to subtly duck Shane’s hand, long fingers slipping off his back. 

They made their way across the lot, the heat wafting off the pavement a sharp contrast from the icy shadows Ryan had been lurking in for so long. He was sweating before they’d even made the elevators of the parking garage-- admittedly, that wasn’t all the heat. His nerves were jangling in a panicky high key just under his skin, the combination making his stomach churn.

He’d parked on the third floor, far left, and he knew the other boys would have probably taken the staircase to avoid getting noticed. So he needed to stall, at least a few minutes.

They stepped into the elevator and Ryan pressed the button for the top floor. Shane pulled a face.

“You parked on the _roof? _Your car’s been baking for a week, Ryan. Could probably cook a whole turkey on the dash.”__

__Ryan snorted, “You just better hope I didn’t forget my coffee in there that morning.”_ _

__Orange sunset spilled into the elevator as the doors opened, and they both squinted against the light. Ryan held up a hand to block it, scanning the length of the rooftop. It was still packed with cars- good, he could take his time, buy a few minutes searching the rows. Bad, as in those poor fuckers were all stuck in Shane’s eldritch vine-wrapped hell dimension, but still._ _

__His expression creased into something self-deprecative, and he rubbed his forehead._ _

__“Forgot where I parked, I guess.”_ _

__Shane couldn’t blame him for that- it’d been a week at least since he pulled in, and it wasn’t like he’d been in his right mind at the time. The ghost marks had still been fresh, then, stinging on his skin._ _

__Shane only hm’ed in response, and they walked the length of the roof. Ryan stopped only once they were near the end, near the hip-high cement walls, Los Angeles spread out in front of them._ _

__Ryan closed his eyes. Took a deep breath._ _

__“You okay?” Shane asked softly._ _

__Ryan stopped, and turned around to face him._ _

__“...I can still call you Shane, right? I don’t have to start calling you ‘Everett’ or some shit?”_ _

__But Shane only shrugged._ _

__“It doesn’t really matter to me. I’ll answer to both.”_ _

__Ryan frowned. That wasn’t the answer he wanted._ _

__“But my name is Ryan. Promise me, Shane. I’m only Ryan.”_ _

__...No matter what happened, from here on out. Only Ryan._ _

__And surprisingly enough, Shane’s smile softened._ _

__“Promise.”_ _

__Ryan reached out then to absently straighten Shane’s collar, biting his lip nervously. Had he given Adam and Andrew enough time? The last thing any of them needed was him and Shane walking in on them digging the spare from the tire well of his car, or only half-hidden in the back. He frowned, rubbing his thumb over a thoroughly imagined speck on Shane’s shoulder as he struggled to find words to fill the silence._ _

__“I miss you, though.”_ _

__“You don’t need to, Ryan. I’m still here. All this-- it’s just a new normal.” Shane gave him a grin, and Ryan tried to mirror it the best he could._ _

___A new normal._ _ _

__Ryan frowned._ _

__He liked the old normal- the old Shane. Even his smile wasn’t quite right; it tilted up higher on one side than the other, showing a bit more tooth. Shane reached out a hand, to lay on Ryan’s side._ _

__“Well, if you’re not on this hellish floor, which one?” Shane asked. He sounded mildly impatient, even though he’d smiled when Ryan deigned to touch him. Ryan frowned._ _

__“...Third floor, maybe?” He offered, defeatedly._ _

__Ryan paused, looked Shane over again. Shane’s hands slid slowly along his side, and it almost felt like a turn-on-- if the whole situation weren’t so upsetting, if Ryan’s brain wasn’t hardwired to fray any minute. How many minutes had it been since they’d left the entrance? He should have been timing it. Had Andrew and Adam had enough time to find his car, dig out the spare key, climb inside and hide away without being seen? Ryan had no way to know. Neither of them had even been in his car before- he’d had to describe it to them, and hope they found it quickly enough._ _

__He had to help them, give the all the minutes he could scrape up._ _

__He licked dry lips, eyes flicking over Shane, and-- fuck it._ _

__“Hey. C’mere,” He said, hand tightening to tug on Shane’s collar, and before he could overthink it, he pulled him down into a kiss._ _

__Shane flailed a little, and Ryan would’ve almost laughed if his lips weren’t already occupied._ _

__He wasn’t quite sure where he was pretending to go with this. Overcome with lust, under a radiant, romantic smog sunset? Fearing for the future, and grasping for straws to make sense of it all? He wasn’t a good enough actor that Shane couldn’t see straight through him if he tried too hard to fake something real._ _

__This was a mistake, but hell if it wasn’t too late to back out now._ _

__Ryan slid his hand to the back of Shane’s neck to keep him there, closing his eyes. If he kept Shane this close, he wouldn’t have to let him see the expression on his face- not until he could figure out what that expression should be._ _

__

__**Shane** _ _

__Shane blinked in surprise when Ryan fairly much attacked him, lips first. There was a sting of pain as his tooth pinned his lower lip before they recalibrated. He tried to pull back, just enough to figure out what the hell was going on, but Ryan’s hand caught at the back of his neck and just held. His grip was strong, and Shane felt a little trill of pleasure run down his spine despite himself. This was it- this was what he wanted._ _

__His arm slid around Ryan’s waist, pulling him closer until they pressed together and Ryan didn’t object to that either, hand tightening, kiss settling into something more even as they found their footing together._ _

__It was good- it was what he’d been waiting for, Ryan enthusiastically keeping him close, a hand on the back of his neck and the other sliding down to clutch at Shane’s hip, holding on without tugging him closer or away._ _

__A part of Shane wanted to keep it cool, keep in control…But it was easier said than done as Ryan took a step forward and Shane automatically took a step back, right up until he bumped up against someone’s Jeep at his back._ _

__Shane only response was catching a hand in Ryan’s hair, tousling it until it stuck up wildly, holding him in place. Ryan made a soft sound in his throat, somewhere between an exhale and a moan, and it was _exhilarating._ Shane broke the kiss only long enough for a heady chuckle. _ _

__“Why the sudden about-face, Ryan?” He whispered, just between them._ _

__Ryan’s eyes flickered, caught between desire and something else Shane couldn’t read._ _

__

__**Ryan** _ _

__

__Ryan had heard his moan-- but it took him a moment to realize that it’d come from _him._ He could feel his cheeks heat when Shane broke the kiss to laugh at him, no matter how softly._ _

__“F-fuck you,” he said automatically, before realizing he needed to keep playing the situation. Because-- well, fuck, why had he done it?_ _

__A beat between them, as he averted his gaze away from the man he had pinned to a stranger’s SUV, hip to hip. He took it to look away, to take a moment and collect the words for his lie._ _

__“...Fuck, Shane, I- I don’t know. Maybe this was just my last chance to do that… you know, as me? I don’t know what I’ll be, or how I’ll feel about things, by tomorrow. And I’d already missed… you,” he said lamely, cutting it off before he could elaborate- that he really, genuinely missed the chance to have just Shane to himself, without Everett between them._ _

__And the fucking thing was, the real fucking thing that had burrowed under his skin, was that he wasn’t lying._ _

__Shane was important to him, and what they’d have between them was _important_ \- and now, he was face to face with the reality that it would never be the same._ _

__His thumb brushed the hem of Shane’s shirt, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. And he pressed the taller man closer against the window of the Jeep, their frames pressing together. Shane even seemed to like it, pupils widening a fraction, lips parting._ _

__When Ryan kissed him again, Shane was already ready this time, both of them crashing together, and Ryan realized he’d been waiting years for this._ _

__

__**Shane** _ _

__

__When Ryan finally came back to kissing him, Shane finally remembered a feeling that wasn’t Everett’s, something his and only his; he’d been waiting years for this._ _

__

__**Ryan** _ _

__

__Ryan lost track of time, lost track of everything for a few blissful moments, until it was Shane himself who broke the kiss, brushing their noses together once, absently._ _

__Ryan took a deep shuddery inhale, trying to catch his footing. His blood was running a bit too fast, skin flushed and sticky from the sun._ _

__“We should get going before dark,” Shane said softly between them. “We’ve got a few hours of driving ahead of us.”_ _

__Ryan nodded. That had to have been enough time, right? He swallowed, trying to get his head back on straight._ _

__“Third-- third floor. I think maybe I parked there, that morning.”_ _

__He swallowed, then reached out to snag Shane’s sleeve, just a pinch of fabric between thumb and forefinger. Shane let himself be led back to the elevators. Down a floor, both of them standing side by side in strangely tense silence, this new expectation heavy between them both._ _

__Ryan’s car was right where he remembered it, but for a moment he was almost hoping it wasn’t- that they’d gotten some sense in them and ran, that it was just gone, and-- him and Shane, they could just stay indefinitely, straying from floor to floor in an endless loop as they searched for his car, skin to skin._ _

__Ryan automatically went for the driver’s side, but Shane stopped him cold with a light, firm shove to his chest, pinning him up against the side of the car._ _

__“What the fuck, Shane?”_ _

__“Don’t worry, Ryan. I’m just going to give you a simple pat-down. Make sure you don’t got anything dangerous.”_ _

__It was not a simple pat-down. It was long and lingering, Shane’s hands wandering. Ryan’s brows furrowed as long hands cupped his jeans, slid into his back pocket to snag his cellphone. Then to his front pocket- Ryan jumped with a startled curse- but it was only to dig out Ryan’s car keys._ _

__Shane jangled them with a smile._ _

__“I’m driving this time.”_ _

__Ryan frowned and side-stepped, now that Shane wasn’t touching him anymore. His skin felt like it was on fire._ _

__“I always drive. It’s my fuckin’ car, Shane.”_ _

__“Not this time, buckaroo. Buckle up!”_ _

__Shane smiled and hopped up into the driver’s side, and what was Ryan going to do? Come around and physically drag him back out? Ryan was tired. He wasn’t sure he’d even have the mental strength to hit the gas- let alone drive them off an overpass at 80 and end this like he should._ _

__So Shane could drive, this time._ _

__Ryan went around his car, sparing a single glance to his trunk-- just a quick glance, before Shane got curious. There was a pile of blankets back there, covering some spare equipment- and now covering two men, hopefully, but he couldn’t read the shape of them. Hopefully, they both fit. It wasn’t the biggest trunk; if they were both in there, they were probably atop one another._ _

__For three hours._ _

__Hilarious._ _

__Or maybe he only had one of them- or maybe neither. And he couldn’t rely on them, remember? _(They should have run, he reminded himself- and if they had, how the hell could he be mad at them, for that?)__ _

__He snorted and dropped his weary bones into the passenger seat._ _

__Another road trip with Shane. It wouldn’t be their last. He was going to make sure of it._ _

__

__**Shane** _ _

__

__Ryan was being well-behaved._ _

__Shane was momentarily afraid he was being too well-behaved, that Ryan was planning something. But what could he plan that could really stop him, if he had his mind set?_ _

__Shane would keep a firm grip on the steering wheel, but the bumper to bumper evening traffic of the freeways were too crowded to do deadly damage, and the roads out of the desert were wide and flat. And anyway, Ryan truly didn’t seem interested in any of that, his cheek pressed against the window, watching the horizon as the sun slowly sunk over the course of their trip, expressionless._ _

__And not much longer after that, Ryan was asleep, lids dropping heavy and then limp. He’d slumped in his sleep, cheek smooshed up against his seatbelt, feet up on the dash, curled up into a bulky, awkward little ball. It made the drive easier; Shane could relax. And Ryan was cute while he slept._ _

__Had he noticed that before? He couldn’t remember._ _

__He hummed along to the radio and daydreamed of their future until Ryan’s car rolled to a stop in front of the mine, headlights beaming into the depths until the darkness swallowed them._ _

__Shane flicked off the engine and watched the entrance quietly, trying to see if he could sense the familiar ghosts inside. It was silent._ _

__“Ryan.” He said gently, leaning over to cup Ryan’s cheek. Ryan startled hard, eyes flying open with a swallowed grunt of a cry as he jerked against the seatbelt like he’d forgotten it was there._ _

__“Shane- Shane, sorry, I was… having a nightmare, I think?” He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye, and then his gaze dragged slower over to the mine, expression slowing._ _

__“Oh. We’re… we’re here.”_ _

__“Yup. Ready?”_ _

__Shane hopped out of his seat and came around to Ryan’s side. Ryan didn’t answer, but he opened his door himself before Shane could get to it, sliding out and standing before the mine. His boots were firm in the dust, a tense line to his shoulders. His hand lifted, hovering in the air for an awkward moment before catching Shane’s to squeeze, just the once._ _

__“Ready.” Ryan said, and this time, he almost sounded like he was telling the truth._ _

__Then, hand in hand, they walked into the mine._ _


	16. End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added onnnne last (for reals, I promise) chapter to this, a short epilogue i'll post within the week. And then it's all over! ;_;  
> I'm a little sad, but I'm already outlining another story-a horror AU where Ryan and Shane are lighthouse keepers. Does that sound interesting to y'all?

It was colder than Ryan remembered.

They took careful steps around rivulets of muddy water, silt clinging to the treads of their boots. He kept a tight grip on his flashlight in one hand, Shane’s hand in the other as he tried to keep up- Shane walked fast. 

The entrance was dotted with jagged rocks, sharp with twisted metal and barbed wire, and Ryan knew Shane wasn’t just going to let him attempt this exorcism without a fight. So he took a few steps into the mine, shuddering at the too-familiar sound of swinging chains and running water.

“So just how does this work?” Ryan asked, his voice echoing down the mineshaft- it was way too loud for his comfort, and he immediately softened his tone. “You just call for Lassie and they come a’ runnin’?” 

Ryan was about to see a ghost for the first time, but he found he was having some trouble dredging up any excitement. Or anything but dread, really.

Shane smiled, squeezing his hand once. 

“Something like that. They’re waiting for us, deeper inside. By the altar.” 

Shane gestured and all the half-broken lanterns hanging haphazardly from the ceiling began to glow with a faint blue light, throwing violet shadows over the rocks and timber frames. Ryan gripped his flashlight tighter.

They were headed for the altar, that small room where everything began. Ryan knew they still had a few minutes of walking left. He tensed, all too aware of Shane beside him. Now. This was the time. The only chance he’d probably get.

Or, he thought it was, until Shane suddenly stopped a few steps in.

Just beyond him, Ryan could see that the crack in the marble floor, the one that Shane had broken through. Now, it extended so much further, crumbling down the walls of the altar room and opening it up to the main shaft, searing along the floor in one deep, jagged gash, long and immense and dark before them.

They stood side by side at the edge of the gulf, and Shane cocked his head. 

“Huh.” 

Ryan didn’t say anything at all, staring down into the depths. He couldn’t even begin to see the bottom of it, but somewhere deep down below he could still hear water running. He’d always had a fear of heights-- and though he hadn’t climbed anywhere, the heights had come to him, perched on a precipice bigger than his imagination, and it made him dizzy.

Ryan took a jerky step backwards, shaking his head, “Shane, I-”

He was still holding Shane’s hand, but it was quickly becoming too sweaty for comfort, clammy and cold. He pulled his hand away to wipe it on his shirt, backing up away from the edge until he could barely see the emptiness beyond it. 

“Shane, wait.”

Shane let Ryan pull back, turning to stroll casually after him. The cliff now at his back, he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Oh, Ryan, are you wussing out on me already? It’s too late, you know. You can’t back out now.”

Ryan glanced down, trying to look appropriately shamed instead of just plain terrified. He sunk a little in the silt as he shifted from foot to foot, water just enough to get his boots wet.

“No, I’m- just step back from the cliff, alright? You know I fuckin’ hate heights, man.”

Shane took another step forward towards him obediently with a soft smile. 

“What, you’re warning me away from the edge? ...Not thinking of shoving me over it?”

Shane did a little dance that ended with a flourish, mimicking pinwheeling back. Ryan reached out to grab his wrist with a scowl, pulling him back a few feet further to safety. Shane’s eyelids went to half-mast, smile slow and satisfied.

“Such a sweetheart, Ry- so protective.”

Well- sort of, but that wasn’t really it, was it? Ryan wouldn’t dare shove him in- he had the sinking feeling that it was too late for that. He could feel the ghosts around them, James already a cold presence, crawling along Ryan’s spine like honey. Shane might die when his body finally hit the ground, but Ryan… Ryan would live on as something else.

He couldn’t risk it.

But what he could risk was getting Shane safely away from the cliff; the ground beneath them was soft silt, it probably wouldn’t hurt at all when-

“Hey Shane?”

“Hm?”

Ryan pulled his fist back and slammed it right in Shane’s solar plexus. Alright, maybe it would hurt.

Shane made a funny little sound in his throat that Ryan had never heard before, doubling over before crashing to his knees onto the ground. But there wasn’t a moment to pause, Ryan taking his arm and yanking to flip him to the ground, Shane’s back hitting the silt with a splatter, dirty water splashing and soaking into his clothes. He was coughing, sucking sharp little inhales like Ryan had knocked the breath out of him, and Ryan simply launched after him to join him on the ground, tackling Shane and shifting to straddle his waist. 

He closed his eyes with a quick, panicked breath- the words, what were the words to the exorcism--

They came after a panicked, blanked beat and he started with his voice a little shaky before spilling faster, words scattering from his lips. Shane bucked under him but Ryan held on, tracing the sign of the cross over his forehead (he was pretty sure that part was only for demons, but couldn’t fuckin’ hurt, right?). He kept his hand pressed down on Shane’s forehead, keeping his head back in the silt as Ryan chanted. Shane shoved an elbow into Ryan’s hip and pain flared up through his side. Ryan grit his teeth and kept going.

Shane sucked in a sharp breath that Ryan felt against his forearm and started laughing, voice thready.

“R-really Ryan? Holding all this in your back pocket, just for me? Or didja memorize it for funsies forever ago and figure, ‘hell, why not?’”

Ryan ignored him and kept on, low and steady, only the mildest waver to his voice that he was pretty sure only he could hear. Nothing was happening, not yet-- but he had to keep trying.

But then Shane smiled, something slow and satisfied uncurling in the corners of his lips. His fingers twitched, before splaying gently on Ryan’s side. Not trying to push him off.

“I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve too, yanno.” Shane teased softly, crooking his chin up to meet Ryan’s gaze. His thumb brushed Ryan’s skin under the hem of his shirt and Ryan’s back lit up in pain, tattoo a live wire of frostbitten electricity. 

Ryan felt it sparking, smoking with some supernatural fire, and he cried out, remaining words dying in his throat. His grip loosened, but Shane only used his freedom to turn his head to the side, looking into the darkness, deeper into the mine.

In his cloud of misery, Ryan felt a presence there, heard the low moan and shudder, and he looked too, even though he already knew what he’d see.

“Go ahead, James. Fuck him up.” Shane grinned sharp, an expression utterly alien on his face.

And Ryan was wrong.

He’d definitely seen a ghost before. 

The things in his bedroom before, they had all been ghosts. Shadowy, inky monstrosities, dragging water as they walked. And so he recognized James as he pulled himself out of the rock walls with slow staggered creeps and drags. 

He was close, already too close, his shadow in Ryan’s periphery. He swallowed down a scream and turned back to see Shane grinning wildly up at him- fuck, where had he left off in the exorcism? He didn’t have time to start over again. He could hear James’ footsteps in the silt, wet and plodding.

“Aw, Ryan, what’s wrong?” Shane taunted and then he moved, twisting to the side to buck Ryan off. He scrambled to his feet and Ryan shot up after him the best he could, skidding in the mud. It was hard to take chase, the burn of the tattoo like a stitch in his side, and he gasped. Shane easily put himself between Ryan and the exit.

“C’mon baby, stop playing hard to get,” Shane teased. 

Ryan could heard James behind him, moving slow but steady, getting closer.

He looked over his shoulder at James, and then back to Shane- and saw a flicker in the shadows beyond him. He smiled as Shane noticed Andrew and Adam a fraction too late, twisting toward them. Andrew skidded in front of him, gravel spraying, to shove him backwards-

-where Adam was waiting with a length of chain. He wrapped it around Shane’s neck and pulled backs to jerk him off-balance against Adam’s chest. Andrew grabbed his hands, pinning his wrists together. Shane made a sharp gurgling noise in his throat and Ryan ran to them, heart pounding in his throat despite everything- was he okay?

“Now’s not the time, Ryan.” Adam reminded him, and he was right. Shane struggled, but Adam was strong, and had the upper hand. Even James had paused his advance, watching them with his head cocked owlishly. Ryan didn’t know what the fuck he was waiting for, but he didn’t fucking intend to find out.

He ran up to Shane, making eye contact with Adam’s soft steady gaze for split second as he dredged up the words again.

“Shane, _please,_ ” Ryan started, “Please, just let us do this.”

Shane stared at him, expression bland as he stilled in Adam’s grip. His words were choked-off, hoarse, but no less sharp.

“Oh good, I was afraid that half-assed exorcism was your only plan. I was a little embarrassed for you.”

Ryan pursed his lips. Shane never spoke to him like that.

“Why are you being so bitchy, Shane?”

Beyond him, he could feel James watching them. 

He fucking hated it.

“Because I’m disappointed, Ryan.” Shane mimicked back, bitterly.

Ryan gave him a glare and shook it off. And this time, the words of the exorcism came faster, his voice a panicked high he barely recognized. Shane struggled, but Adam jerked on the chain to hold him in place.

“Fu-fucking _cheats_ -” Shane gurgled, a low hiss, “You can’t stop me-”

He kicked the heel of his boot into the ground, spraying gravel. “You have friends? Me too, bucko.”

Another kick, and the ground shuddered. Ryan heard the sound of mud and water pouring off the edge of the cliff, the crackling of rock and marble. Dust sifted from the timbered ceiling.

And he heard the now-familiar moans of ghosts, rattling through the mine tunnels. How many had there been before, in his bedroom? 

Thirteen. Yes.

Ghosts dragged themselves out of the walls one by one by one, glowing faintly in the darkness. Ryan’s tattoo flared agony in response, his shoulders hunching in, and he could see it glowing faintly out of the corner of his eye, the same color as them.

Shane was covered in mud, hair sticking up like a madman as he looked around the growing circle of ghosts. He was grinning, eyes wild. Ryan moved to put Shane between him and James, looking for an opening, any opening- what the fuck did they do now?

He wouldn’t get an answer to that question, voiced or not. The other ghosts didn’t hesitate, and they moved much faster than James.

They swirled up all around Ryan, fingers brushing along his skin, cold and wet on his cheeks, water running down the curve of his cheekbones before he jerked away in response.  
They did the same to Andrew and Adam, reaching for them with hungry fingers. They snatched at limbs and clothes, whatever they could get a grip on, and threw them back. Andrew slammed into the wall of the mine, hanging chains shuddering from the force of it as he cried out, crumpling to the ground. The ancient timbers groaned. Ryan fell onto his back, the cool trickling water a blessing on his burning tattoo as he heaved in a breath.

Adam they were gentler with, two of them coming up behind him to grab his wrists. They squeezed, and Adam jerked when his hands reflexively spasmed, chains dropping from his grip. They dragged him back, Adam’s boots kicking at nothing, and that was the first time Ryan had ever heard Adam scream, a short cut-off burst of panic.

Chains in the dust, Shane rubbed his throat, stepping forward. He’d cut his forehead on something, cracked temple bleeding an inky black instead of blood. Ryan tried not to stare.

“Are we done with all the damn theatrics, Ryan?” he snarled, and Ryan hadn’t heard that tone from him before either. Really, he was having trouble seeing anything in Shane that he recognized anymore. A ghost tightened their wet grip around him. 

He was slammed temple first into the gravel, grit grinding against his cheekbone as more fingers dripped in his hair. Muddy water soaked cold in his clothes and leaked into his ear and Ryan squeezed his eyes shut.

Shane leaned over him.

“Shane, please, don’t do this-” Ryan said softly, voice muffled as he tried to keep groundwater from spilling between his lips. 

This was it. He’d resorted to begging.

Shane shoved him with his boot, Ryan flopping over onto his back.

And then he knelt beside him, only to run a hand through his hair. 

“You’re acting like I’m gonna kill you.” 

Shane smiled, such a soft smile that something twisted in Ryan’s chest.

Beside Shane, the ghost of James slinked up, edges wavering. Ryan stared breathlessly down the dark holes of James’ face. 

Shane grabbed Ryan’s shirt, fingers snarling taut in wet fabric, and he grinned. 

“Ready, baby?”

Ryan forgot his response completely when James laid a hand on his chest. It was cold and wet, hardly there- but as soon as it made contact, something burned sharp in Ryan’s chest. His whole body spasmed, thrashing under Shane’s impassive gaze.

“Yeah, burns like the dickens, don’t it?” Shane said gently “At least mine started slow. Everett was still waking up. But yours- it’ll go faster, I promise.”

James’ fingers sunk into his chest, tattoo acid on his skin and Ryan screamed, something high-pitched and inhuman that he barely realized was leaving his lungs.

“Ryan, fight it!” Adam said in his periphery, desperately struggling against the ghosts’ grips. But fighting it- that wasn’t an option. James crashed into him like the ocean and Ryan knew nothing else, icy fingers clawing around his heart, sinking into his veins. James gave a thready sigh as he sunk into Ryan completely. His icy blue essence glowed around Ryan’s frame like disturbed dust, and then he was gone.

Gone for everyone but Ryan.

It was almost too hard to keep track, different thoughts and emotions running rapid through his already overworked brain. He blinked, looking around the mine with new eyes, remembering where the machinery used to be- what it used to do back when when the mine was dry and dusty, before Everett burned everything down. Before he died. They all died.

A shudder racked Ryan’s body.

“This is how we go. Together,” Everett had whispered against his scorched skin, so softly, hands clutching at his clothes. Blood was everywhere. And so was the fire, licking at their skin. Ryan couldn’t breathe, he-

Shane cupped his face, “Shh. Memories. They don’t matter, not anymore.” 

Ryan blinked up at him and saw Everett in his mind’s eye now, blonde hair and ruddy skin. Shane’s crooked smile no longer looked unfamiliar; all he saw was Everett’s smirk.

Ryan’s hands lifted to skim the sides of Shane’s face, tracing freckles that weren’t there, before catching fingertips in his soft hair. He pulled him down into the water with him, his knee knocking against his hip as Shane slid against his frame, pressed against him in a hungry kiss of reunion.

They kissed desperately, an aggressive clash of tongues and hips, half of Ryan entirely delighted by the feel of skin on skin even if wasn’t the skin he used to know. The body was familiar to half of him- and that was good enough.

What nagged at him was how utterly strange and unfamiliar the kiss itself felt; he didn’t know if it was James feeling unsettled by Ryan or Ryan unsettled by James. It was just... different, different angles, same lips to a different rhythm.

All the same, they only broke the kiss when they needed to catch their breath, James taking a deep grateful breath of air with living lungs and Shane gave him a smile, face softened. 

“So glad to have you back, James,” he whispered, breathlessly.

A twist of temper curled in Ryan’s belly that he wasn’t sure was all his own. But maybe. He scowled up at Shane. 

“No. _Ryan._ Remember? ...You promised.” 

He’d still responded to the name James; it honestly felt alright, but it was the fucking principle of it. He was still Ryan, wasn’t he? Ryan Bergara, even if that wasn’t all he was.

“Ah. Didn’t think you’d care about that anymore, to tell you the truth.” Shane shrugged easily enough. 

Ryan was starting to recognize all Shane’s new quirks and expressions as well, mannerisms slotting into place. Everett’s apathy. His disinterest.

Everett made him fuckin’ tired sometimes.

Shane hadn’t been wrong. James and Ryan did have a lot in common. James was tired, and Ryan was tired, and between the two of them the exhaustion threatened to numb him down to the bones.

He went lax under Shane, letting his gaze slip to the side, breaking their connection. He saw Andrew and Adam, twin visages of fear, expressions tight.

James didn’t know them, but Ryan did.

“Fight it,” Andrew hissed at him, his voice tight.

He was well and truly fucked now, and he seemed to know it.

Shane followed his gaze and smiled. “Nothing to fight, Adam. Ryan is James. With all his wants and aspirations.” He slid to his feet and stepped up to the two, cupping Adam’s chin as he looked beyond them to the rest of the dripping ghosts waiting in the darkness.

“But for now, looks like we can get a couple more ghouls out of the mine, huh? How about it, Adam? Maybe you’d like Henry. Both of you are so quiet. So strange.”

Adam didn’t answer, lips pressed in a tight line.

Ryan sat up, lifting a hand to idly watch the outline of James waver with his own, a double negative just a fraction out of sync. He didn’t even feel like they were one, not really- just together enough to make him antsy. Then, he stopped.

James was holding back. 

Just a little, a hesitation that Ryan felt, and ...Guilt. Ryan, his friends- they were so young, and they hadn’t asked for any of this.

He’d had an eternity with Everett, but Shane and Ryan hadn’t even started yet.

“And Andrew. Who wants Andrew?” Shane called out. He looked out over the expectant crowd graciously, and Ryan snorted.

“What about the others?”

Shane turned to look at him over his shoulder. “We have others. Eugene, Niki- many have agreed to be mine. They’ll agree to more.”

“Andrew and Adam didn’t agree to anything. Isn’t that what you said? That they have to consent.”

“They will. Or I’ll throw’em off that cliff.” Shane gestured lazily.

“Don’t fucking do this, Shane-” Andrew said, face white. 

Shane laughed, “Oh, but I am a generous, benevolent leader, and all of mine have been waiting so patiently for-- well, me! I had to bring them a gift.”

The ghosts murmured in agreement, and Shane beamed at them. Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Shane didn’t bring them. I did.” Ryan growled, “Why would he only bring two?”

“For _now,_ ” Shane said. “This is a fucking meritocracy after all, Ryan. Gotta reward the best first. I brought these two for,” he thought fast, before gesturing at two ghosts to their left, “Henry, and Bill. They’ve been loyal.’

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, an unfamiliar curl of rage icy in his stomach. An eternity with Everett. James knew everything Ryan knew, and Ryan knew everything James knew, and now they were both starting to realize something.

“They all fuckin’ died for you, Everett.”

Ryan slid to his feet, and shoved him.

“You motherfucker. You never cared about any one of us. You cut us up and left us here to die in your flames. To burn for your god.”

“- _Our_ god-” Shane said sharply, “What the fuck, James-”

“-Ryan! It’s been a century. Do you even remember all of their names?” Ryan raised a single brow.

“Of course I do!”

Ryan turned to the ghosts, raising his arms up high. He wasn’t afraid of them anymore; he certainly remembered each and every one of their names. They’d been his friends, once.”

“Ryan knew something I didn’t, my friends. Everett took our god from us. He’s already gathering new acolytes. You’ve been abandoned,” Ryan said.

“That’s patently untrue.” 

Shane scowled, and Ryan gave him a thin smile, “Ah, I apologize. I mean you’re going to keep Shane’s favorites, and keep Everett’s favorites, and well- fuck the rest.”

“You’re my favorite. Isn’t that good enough to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut-”

“Not really.” Ryan scrubbed at his eyes, “Aren’t you tired? A century of just existing. I’m tired.”

His gaze swung to Shane pointedly, and the line of Shane’s shoulders sharpened.

“What are you trying to say, Ryan? James?”

“I’m saying you should have asked first.”

And Ryan lunged.

He knocked Shane back and they both tumbled back onto the tracks. Both James and Everett knew how to fight and neither of them were interested in holding back, throwing punches and kicking and scuffling down the mine towards the cliffside. 

Ryan knew James’ plan, and it terrified him- James was done, and he was ready to go down swinging.

“Ungrateful motherfucker, I knew I shouldn’t have bothered to come back here- there was nothing for me-” Everett hissed, “I have my choice of pretty young things, I didn’t need to come back for your rotting corpse- I should have left you buried-”

James swung a fist, it collided with Shane’s shoulder and that was enough to knock him right up to the edge, Shane’s boots skidding gravel into the darkness. But he kept his balance, shoving forward to try and knock Ryan to the ground but Ryan was ready, and with a grip on his shirt he tumbled them both down, right up to the edge. 

Shane slammed hard onto his back, Ryan atop him, pinning them both in place with his weight. Shane’s head hung out over the dark.

“I fall, I’m taking Ryan and James both with me,” Shane growled.

“I know.” James said, his grin feral. 

But his eyes said something different; they were Ryan’s dark eyes, terrified of the abyss before them.

He shoved his hand against Shane’s chest. Ryan’s hand stopped against his ribs, but James’ hand kept going, the outline of him shoving between Shane’s lungs. Shane spasmed under him, and for a moment Ryan thought he saw the spill of Everett around him.

“Try your exorcism one last time.” James said with Ryan’s mouth, and Ryan startled. 

But he listened, looking down at Shane to give Everett a sharp grin.

“You’re not even a demon. I can fuckin’ handle you.”

And then again, third time the charm, the Latin rambling from his lips as he kept his eyes on Shane’s face and not the empty dark below him.

And the words he’d spent hours memorizing… shifted a little, slipping from Latin to something he barely recognized as James filled in the missing pieces. And James reached both hands into Shane’s ribcage, clenching tight and yanking as Shane howled below him. Everett’s edges were muddy yellows instead of blues, Ryan could see him now, and he spoke even faster, hope springing in his throat for the first time in a long time.

Buried in concentration, he almost didn’t notice the ghosts circling up around them, not until Adam’s shouting caught his attention. He looked up at the glowing figures around him, still as statues and close as a breath. Ryan ignored his reflex to bolt and let James handle it. The last of the words fell from his lips and Shane was glowing and James grabbed Everett tight again and _dragged,_ and Ryan saw him- a beast of sharp edges, fiery and jagged where his followers were soft and wet.

James held on, and turned to the others.

“There’s nothing here for us anymore.” He said a bit softer, Ryan’s eyes closing momentarily, “The god is weak without Everett. They can kill it. And we can finally rest.”

Everett thrashed in James’ grip, and Shane thrashed under Ryan.

“I brought you them!” Everett screamed, gesturing wildly at Adam and Andrew.

But the ghosts shook their heads.

“Lies,” They said, all whispers and echoes.

“You left us behind, Everett.”

And they strode forward en masse, claustrophobically close around Ryan. He took the shallowest inhale.

“Drown, or burn?” The ghosts murmured and Ryan could almost read their amused tones.

Ryan knew Everett had burned the first time around, when the fire ripped through the mine-- and this time, it seemed he might just drown, instead.

James leapt from Ryan’s body and Ryan felt him tear free as he slammed into Everett, holding on, Everett ripping from Shane in fits and starts.

Almost.

Everett caught onto Shane’s arm, clawing into it. Everett and James looked almost like one, their glowing masses mingling into a sickly green. Shane screamed as he started to bleed, black seeping from the furrows Everett dug inch by inch into his skin. Ryan cried out with him, gripping him tighter.

"I won't let go. I own him." Everett snarled. Ryan gritted his teeth.

"No. He's mine." he said without thinking.

Then, the ghosts stepped forward. 

Off the edge, all thirteen of them fell, atop of Everett and dragging him down. They felt like cold whispers swarming Ryan’s skin, but to Everett they had weight, and as they pulled him down into the pit his grip on Shane snapped free.

The inky blood from his gouged skin gushed black, then violent red as Ryan wrapped his arms around him, pulling him back from the edge. He felt hands on his arms, Adam and Andrew helping to drag them back until they all fell back in a tangle of limbs. 

Ryan twisted free, Adam gripping his upper arm tight enough to leave marks as he sat up to stare wildly over the edge.

He could just barely see them still, wrapped together as one, James holding Everett close, a hand tangled in his hair. The rest of the thirteen fell with them like little glowing stars. It looked almost peaceful.

He’d barely caught a glimpse before he was turning back to Shane, joy and relief blooming under his ribcage. He scrambled back to his feet, pulling Shane up with him. Shane held his arm crooked tightly to his chest. He was white and looked like he was barely there, slumped enough that he and Ryan were almost face to face somehow-- but when their gazes caught, he gave him a weak smile, and that was more than enough for Ryan.

None of them looked back as they left the mine at a hasty clip. Andrew fumbled the spare key from his pocket as Adam dug out Ryan’s emergency kit. He unsnapped the plastic tabs as he came back to Shane, but Shane shook his head.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, and Ryan cut off a relieved grin at the familiar timbre of his voice, “I’d really rather we drive.”

It turned out that none of them needed any more convincing than that. 

Adam drove, with Andrew in the passenger seat, Shane and Ryan in the back, and no one spoke a word, not until they were out on the highway again.

At Ryan’s behest, Shane extended his arm, letting Ryan look it over. It was messy, three long scratches bleeding sluggish human red. But they didn’t look half as deep as they had in the frantic dark of the mine, thank god.

Adam glanced at them through the rearview mirror.

“Is he alright? Do we need a hospital?”

Shane shook his head, “No. Back to Los Angeles. We need to finish this.”

Adam nodded and pulled onto the onramp. Ryan opened his med kit; most of it was still wrapped in plastic aside from a few bandaids. He took his time cleaning the grit out of Shane’s wounds and wiping away blood that was starting to dry, concentrating on his task rather than talking. 

And for his part, Shane let him. He let his head fall back to look out the window, eyes half-open. He looked exhausted, pale and glazed over at the seams. Ryan knew the feeling. 

The moon was high in the sky by the time he finished wrapping one last bandage around Shane’s forearm; it was possible he was doing too much. He’d never done more than slap a bandaid or some Bengay on anything, but he felt the need to keep going until the angry scrapes were erased. Shane was pale enough by nature that if he squinted, he almost just looked normal instead. Especially by interior light.

Shane’s eyes were closed, slumped over against the backrest, and Ryan set the kit aside. He watched him quietly, and he was almost surprised to hear him speak.

“...We’re gonna have a lot of crap to work through after this, aren’t we?” Shane didn’t bother opening his eyes, murmur soft against the dull road noise roar.

Ryan wasn’t sure what to say to that. His eyes flicked to the front seat, but Adam was intent on the road, both hands tight on the wheel, and Andrew was staring out the window, tense but silent.

“...If you want, we can pretend none of this happened,” Shane murmured. “I mean, I can apologize, of course, over and over again, but besides that, you know, the… personal things that happened, we can just repress and-”

Ryan reached over the leather seat between them to lay a hand over Shane’s. Shane looked at him then, really looked at him for the first time since the mine, surprise turning into a faint smile. He threaded their fingers together.

“Ryan, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid, Shane. Sleep.”

Shane pursed his lips, but he didn’t push back. Ryan settled down beside him, and felt Shane’s fingers go lax in his soon enough. He smiled, and held on tight as he watched the blur of highway lights out his window.


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last little bit, guys! Thank you so much for reading! It was so lovely to get so much enthusiasm and feedback for my writing <3 You guys are the bessssst.
> 
> New story should be up in a month or so? Trying to outline it a little better than I did this one haha. But it's coming along, I'm excited. If you had any constructive criticism for my writing please let me know in the comments so I can take it in consideration for future writing! :)
> 
> Follow me @camillabluejay for twitter and @3hauntingsat3pricepoints for Tumblr- especially if you also write! I'd love to make new writery friends.
> 
> <3

They pulled right up to Buzzfeed’s front doors. Adam turned the engine off, and both he and Andrew leaned forward to peer through the windshield up at the dark, dark building. Ryan and Shane slept in the back, Shane’s head on Ryan’s shoulder.

Shane woke at the lack of sound, comforting static hum of the freeway faded out. He was out of the car the moment he saw the building, and the lack of him woke Ryan in turn.

Shane strode right up to the front doors, the others trailing after him like shadows, and the veins untangled from the glass to welcome them home. And the veins kept curling away, drawing back, parting like blossoming tendrils with Shane’s every step. Everett might not be in him any longer, but Shane’s body was marked the prophet of the mountain all the same- and when Shane strode down the hallway with his hands clenched into fists, the veins obeyed.

Shane was the epicenter of a wave retreating, and as the vines drew away, they left bodies in their wake, rows of them, standing upright against the walls as the darkness ripped from their frames. Bodies, wavering upright for a bare second, and then collapsing one by one to the floor like dominos, deathly still. Keith. Daysha. Evan. One by one, the veins unmasked them.

Andrew and Adam started to go to them, but Shane stopped them with a warning; stay with him. They would be none the worse for the wear, soon enough.

For now, they marched.

Shane cleared the floor by will alone, and they curved up the staircase for the rest, the veins thrashing and twitching in anger, condensing and coalescing until they reached the door to the altar room.

Shane took a breath. The circles under his eyes were dark, drawn long like shadows just before sundown. He pushed open the door. 

The god shifted, small faceless void forming the body of their intern, gathering its veins to itself- a dark, thrashing bundle around the slim frame of a girl too young.

“You disappoint me, Shane.” Said the god with the intern's mouth.

“I know,” said Shane, “I disappoint me, too.”

He shrugged, stepping forward to the altar his hands had made. The veins stiffened.

“I can give you so many things,” it said.

“Give me her.”

The room was silent, the only sound a soft, restless slither as the veins drew back into the void. The intern collapsed into Shane’s arms; he passes her to Ryan. His eyes don’t leave the god.

“You have one other.”

The god grew Steven’s face with a nod, but this time when it spoke, it was sharp and simmering. Warning. 

“You gave him to me.”

Adam and Andrew were matching shades of horrified. Shane pursed his lips, something haunted flitting across his face, and Ryan laid a hand between his shoulderblades to steady him.

“I can give you anything, Shane.” The whisper came in Steven’s voice, now. “Name your price. Love. Sex. Money. Fame.”

Shane reached out to cup Steven’s cheek. He looked back to Ryan, just a momentary glance as tendrils curled lovingly over his fingers.

“I have everything I want.” Shane said softly. 

His hand lifted to cover Steven’s eyes instead, and the vines thrashed. Steven howled sharp, inhuman, and everyone covered their ears but Shane.

Shane took another step forward, hands clutching into the tangled, silvery mass encircling Steven, and Steven jerked in pain. The dark veins with their silvered centers startled to shrivel and curl in on themselves, smoking, blackening. An ugly metal smell burnt the air, and ash smeared against Steven’s cheeks as he screamed. It pitched into all too human sound of agony. 

The cracked threads around Steven shrank in starts and fits until he was left hanging in thin air, a freefall on pause. When the moment broke a split second later, Adam and Andrew were already there to catch him, Andrew pulling him in close. He tucked his chin atop Steven’s head, face scrunching tight with something like relief.

Ryan stared at the space where the void had been.

"You just… destroyed it. With a touch.” He whispered, because anything more felt too loud in the room now that the last shrill ring of Steven’s scream was gone.

Shane shrugged. His hands were black with soot.

“It wasn't fully hatched just yet. It was feeding off my will.” He wiped his hands against his thighs, leaving dark streaks on jeans that were too filthy for it to matter. “As I giveth, so I taketh away."

There was nothing left but a small hand-built altar, smeared with symbols in dried blood. Shane’s, and Zack’s, and Steven’s. Shane frowned and knocked over a metal bowl of water that balanced on top. It clattered to the floor, pink and purple blossoms scattering in the spill as Shane turned on his heel to stalk out of the room.

…

It was easy enough to find the others that hadn’t been under the call; they were the only ones still up and running. Kelsey and Jen had managed to gather them, had fought their way through the last of Shane’s guards. Zack, and the others under the call that had gotten in the way, were tied up in the corner of their hideaway. 

Kelsey had a large cut across her face, but it didn’t stop her grin when they were reunited. Moonlight spilled through the open floor plan, through windows that were just windows and not solid, veined masses. Their celebration was cut short by Shane’s grim expression.

They weren’t done here, not just yet. The ones they’d freed from the walls would be waking up soon, and they had to get them outside.

Because they were going to burn the building down.

The faceless being had been the god of the mountain, and as long as it had a mountain to be the heart of, it could always find another prophet.

Some of the others hesitated, but Kelsey didn’t need to be told twice. She punched the air first, then Ryan’s shoulder as she ran past him, everyone following her in a halting scurry of motion once she started the cascade. 

“Told ya I had the right idea!”

The bodies scattered loosely in the halls were already starting to twitch and come to, sitting up and staring around in confusion as they were helped up and out.

Jen’s voice crackled on the intercom, warnings of the impending fire echoing in empty halls as Shane determinedly scoured every corridor, every storage room and hideaway, Ryan loping to keep up with his long-legged stride.

And when the building was empty, double and triple checked empty, they spilled acrid gasoline from the broken altar to the front doors, and each of them dropped a match.

Then they joined the others, crowded on top of the far parking garage. Orange light flickered off their faces, and no one said a word.

Together, they watched Buzzfeed go up in smoke.

Shane watched intently, the growing flames reflected in dark pupils; he watched like he wouldn’t take his eyes off it until every last remnant of the god was reduced to ashes. Ryan waited until the fire had gotten big enough to be sure that nothing could be salvaged, before having one of them call it in. He looked at their haggard coworkers, gaze pausing on Jen and Kelsey’s linked hands. They had been shoulder to shoulder when they’d left them behind the glass doors, but this… it felt like more.

His gaze flickered to Shane’s hand where it hung at his side, stiff and empty. And as if Shane could feel Ryan looking, he broke out of his glazed stare for a moment- just long enough to raise a sidelong brow at him, questioning. Ryan shrugged.

“It’s so... weird. A week ago, our most complicated problem was figuring out if Unsolved had any real longevity to it. And now, we don’t even have a studio to film it in.” Ryan looked out over the flames as sparks flared; something must have collapsed. Part of the roof, or some vital support. He was almost surprised when Shane replied.

“... It does, you know.”

“What?”

“Unsolved. We can keep it going.” 

Ryan gave an awkward laugh. “Shane, I almost killed you.”

“You do realize we didn’t get any of this on tape?” This time, Shane turned away from the fire entirely to face Ryan. “There’s no proof. Ghosts are real, one hundred and ten percent real, and we have no proof. Zero. So. Let’s be the ones to find some.”

Ryan watched him with uncertainty, but when their eyes met, they both smiled automatically- and they were small smiles with weary corners, but they were as real as the sirens growing louder in the distance. They only looked away when they heard Andrew’s voice, his relief evident.

“Steven- you’re awake!”

Steven stirred and Andrew held him tight, burying his face against his neck. Adam smiled softly, laying a hand in Steven’s hair.

“What… happened? I remember…?” His voice was a rough croak, and he trailed off without answering. He watched, vaguely puzzled, as the firetrucks started to pull up.

While the fire was being put out, the ones that remembered got their stories straight.

That story was, honestly, that they didn’t know what the fuck happened. It was the easiest way. Beside, for most of the building? It was true. Most of their memories dwindled off a week ago, nothing but the vague memories of a party that got a little too wild. Only the ones that hadn’t fallen under the call remembered anything more, and that was thirteen out of hundreds. Telling the truth wouldn’t do them any good, even if they could make sense of it now.

And naturally, the theories spread like wildfire as soon as word got around. Past what had already been queued up to go, Buzzfeed stopped updating online for a week. Videos, listicles, quizzes - nothing. Emails went unanswered. Execs from the New York branch that came to check in remembered nothing past walking through the darkened doorways. Comments went wild online- some of them even got close enough to count, because apparently Ryan had primed his audience well. Too well, maybe. But most theories were the usual; mold, gas leak, mysterious drugs at the party.

Studies were done, samples were taken, and Buzzfeed rebuilt its LA headquarters in a different lot, the world giving a collective shrug.

Anywhere else, it’d be the perfect basis for an Unsolved episode- but happening at Buzzfeed itself? It was too much of a perfect storm. And for too long a while, it seemed like every comment was about when they were going to tackle it.

They never would; Ryan and Shane wanted nothing to do with it. They moved on. All of them did.

Kelsey and Jen started dating immediately, their coworkers laughing that it was about time. When they asked what had changed though, they’d just shrug and say, simply enough, that life was too short.

Andrew and Steven took a little longer; Andrew remembered everything, but Steven had nothing but a full-body bone-deep ache and a blank where a week should have been. There were some blurry memories of right before at best; impressions of the party that felt like he was underwater. 

Andrew didn’t know how to treat him, treading water. It took three weeks, a late night of drinking and a subsequent string of confessions for Steven to hesitantly bring up their kiss at the party- and for Andrew to correct him, because he was all too aware that it hadn’t been him that kissed Steven that night.

Steven’s surprised disappointment was palpable, and when Andrew asked him what the face was for, Steven responded simply that he’d been hoping it had been theirs.

When Worth It started up again they’d been dating for almost a month, but the viewers didn’t even notice; they’d always looked at eachother like that.

Eugene was the only Try Guy that remembered anything- but then, he was used to being the odd one out. He had Kelsey to talk to about it, at least, even when it felt strange to hold something so big back from the other three. On their channel, it was evident soon enough that not talking about it was going to be the status quo.

The intern quit immediately. Those that knew why didn’t blame her.

Ryan and Shane had a lot to work through; some days, it was almost too much. Neither of them had gotten free unscarred, marred skin bearing witness to invisible hours they’d never scrape away entirely. Ryan’s was easy enough to hide- a single pale line on his stomach. Asked about it, Ryan would just shrug and say Steven stabbed him with a bagel knife. It was clearly a joke. It wasn’t as if Steven remembered, and no one saw it often, anyway.

Shane’s weren’t so easy. The ink stain over his heart, tangled and raised to the touch, that he could keep out of sight. The three long red scars in his arm were another matter. He started wearing long-sleeved shirts on camera- and because ‘on camera’ was a way of life at Buzzfeed, whenever he was at work, too. Some viewers caught onto it, but he brushed it off easy enough; gotta be careful with that California sun, after all.

When Ryan and Shane finally started the new season, most things were the same as before. Their friendly banter, and even their playfully malicious antagonism. It was hard to pin down, but there was an extra edge of warmth and appreciation there, both of them grateful for what they still had.

They hunted for their ghouls with a uneven vigor that slowly recalibrated into something workably familiar. Ryan was still (now rightly) terrified. Shane still taunted the ghosts- but none of it even came close to implying permission, not anymore. What he had instead was a sharper tongue; it made people laugh, but Ryan could see Shane working out his frustrations.

On camera, they never acknowledged any of it. Whatever was palpably there, the new history stacked in precarious piles between them, or how their feelings had shifted because of those leaning towers. In the Q&A for the season finale- Stardust Ranch, because Shane had finally given in- some astute viewers noted their fingers brushing under the table.

They didn’t admit to anything.

But they didn’t deny it, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last little thing, if you were curious- this was my playlist I listened to while writing it: https://bit.ly/2QV9pZt
> 
>  
> 
> THANK YOU AND SEE YOU NEXT TIME <3


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